George  Is 
"rftlsther 


epfien 
Crane 


BANCROFT 
LIBRARY 

o- 

THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

Janet  IHack  Collection 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER 


BY 


STEPHEN   CRANE 

AUTHOK  OF   "THE  RED  BADGE  OP  COURAGE," 
"THE  BLACK  RIDERS,"   ETC. 


EDWARD  ARNOLD 

NEW  YORK  I  LONDON 

70  FIFTH  AVENUE  3T  BEDFORD  STREET 

1896 


COPYRIGHT,  1896 
BY  EDWARD  ARNOLD 


TROW  DIRECTORY 

PRINTING  AND  BOOKBINDING  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK 


GEOKGE'S  MOTHER. 


IN  the  swirling  rain  that  came  at  dusk 
the  broad  avenue  glistened  with  that 
deep  bluish  tint  which  is  so  widely  con- 
demned when  it  is  put  into  pictures. 
There  were  long  rows  of  shops,  whose 
fronts  shone  with  full,  golden  light. 
Here  and  there,  from  druggists'  windows, 
or  from  the  red  street-lamps  that  indi- 
cated the  positions  of  fire-alarm  boxes, 
a  flare  of  uncertain,  wavering  crimson 
was  thrown  upon  the  wet  pavements. 

The  lights  made  shadows,  in  which 
the  buildings  loomed  with  a  new  and 


8  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

tremendous  massiveness,  like  castles  and 
fortresses.  There  were  endless  proces- 
sions of  people,  mighty  hosts,  with  um- 
brellas waving,  banner-like,  over  them. 
Horse -cars,  aglitter  with  new  paint, 
rumbled  in  steady  array  between  the 
pillars  that  supported  the  elevated  rail- 
road. The  whole  street  resounded  with 
the  tinkle  of  bells,  the  roar  of  iron-shod 
wheels  on  the  cobbles,  the  ceaseless 
trample  of  the  hundreds  of  feet.  Above 
all,  too,  could  be  heard  the  loud  screams 
of  the  tiny  newsboys,  who  scurried  in 
all  directions.  Upon  the  corners,  stand- 
ing in  from  the  dripping  eaves,  were 
many  loungers,  descended  from  the 
world  that  used  to  prostrate  itself  be- 
fore pageantry. 

A  brown  young  man  went  along  the 
avenue.     He  held  a  tin  lunch-pail  un- 


QEORGE'S  MOTHER.  9 

der  his  arm  in  a  manner  that  was  evi- 
dently uncomfortable.  He  was  puffing 
at  a  corn-cob  pipe.  His  shoulders  had 
a  self-reliant  poise,  and  the  hang  of  his 
arms  and  the  raised  veins  of  his  hands 
showed  him  to  be  a  man  who  worked 
with  his  muscles. 

As  he  passed  a  street-corner  a  man 
in  old  clothes  gave  a  shout  of  sur- 
prise, and  rushing  impetuously  forward, 
grasped  his  hand. 

"Hello,  Kelcey,  ol'  boy,"  cried  the 
man  in  old  clothes.  "How's  th'  boy, 
anyhow  ?  Where  in  thunder  yeh  been 
fer  th'  last  seventeen  years?  I'll  be 
hanged  if  you  ain't  th'  last  man  I  ever 
expected  t'  see." 

The  brown  youth  put  his  pail  to  the 
ground  and  grinned.  "  Well,  if  it  ain't 
ol'  Charley  Jones,"  he  said,  ecstatically 


10  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

shaking  hands.  "How  are  yeh,  any- 
how ?  Where  yeh  been  keepin'  yer- 
self  ?  I  ain't  seen  yeh  fer  a  year  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  should  say  so !  Why,  th' 
last  time  I  saw  you  was  up  in 
Handyville ! " 

"  Sure !     On  Sunday,  we " 

"  Sure  !  Out  at  Bill  Sickles's  place. 
Let's  go  get  a  drink ! " 

They  made  toward  a  little  glass-front- 
ed saloon  that  sat  blinking  jovially  at 
the  crowds.  It  engulfed  them  with  a 
gleeful  motion  of  its  two  widely  smil- 
ing lips. 

"What'llyeh  take,  Kelcey?" 
"  Oh,  I  guess  I'll  take  a  beer." 
"  Gimme  little  whiskey,  John." 
The  two  friends  leaned  against  the 
bar  and  looked  with  enthusiasm  upon 
each  other. 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  11 

"  Well,  well,  I'm  thunderin'  glad  t'  see 
yeh,"  said  Jones. 

"  Well,  I  guess,"  replied  Kelcey. 
"  Here's  to  yeh,  ol'  man." 

"  Let  'er  go." 

They  lifted  their  glasses,  glanced 
fervidly  at  each  other,  and  drank. 

"  Yeh  ain't  changed  much,  on'y  yeh've 
growed  like  th'  devil,"  said  Jones,  re- 
flectively, as  he  put  down  his  glass. 
"  I'd  know  yeh  anywheres ! " 

"  Certainly  yeh  would,"  said  Kelcey. 
"  An'  I  knew  you,  too,  th'  minute  I  saw 
yeh.  Yer  changed,  though  ! " 

"Yes,"  admitted  Jones,  with  some 
complacency,  "  I  s'pose  I  am."  He  re- 
garded himself  in  the  mirror  that  multi- 
plied the  bottles  on  the  shelf  back  of  the 
bar.  He  should  have  seen  a  grinning 
face  with  a  rather  pink  nose.  His  derby 


12  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

was  perched  carelessly  on  the  back  part 
of  his  head.  Two  wisps  of  hair  strag- 
gled down  over  his  hollow  temples. 
There  was  something  very  worldly  and 
wise  about  him.  Life  did  not  seem  to 
confuse  him.  Evidently  he  understood 
its  complications.  His  hand  thrust 
into  his  trousers'  pocket,  where  he 
jingled  keys,  and  his  hat  perched  back 
on  his  head  expressed  a  young  man  of 
vast  knowledge.  His  extensive  ac- 
quaintance with  bartenders  aided  him 
materially  in  this  habitual  expression 
of  wisdom. 

Having  finished  he  turned  to  the  bar- 
keeper. "John,  has  any  of  th'  gang 
been  in  t'-night  yet  ?  " 

"No — not  yet,"  said  the  barkeeper. 
"  Ol'  Bleecker  was  aroun'  this  afternoon 
about  four.  He  said  if  I  seen  any  of 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  13 

th'  boys  t'  tell  'em  he'd  be  up  t'-night  if 
he  could  get  away.  I  saw  Connor  an' 
that  other  fellah  goin'  down  th'  avenyeh 
about  an  hour  ago.  I  guess  they'll  be 
back  after  awhile." 

"  This  is  th'  hang-out  fer  a  great 
gang,"  said  Jones,  turning  to  Kelcey. 
"  They're  a  great  crowd,  I  tell  yeh.  We 
own  th'  place  when  we  get  started. 
Come  aroun'  some  night.  Any  night, 
almost.  T'-night,  b'  jiminy.  They'll 
almost  all  be  here,  an'  I'd  like  t'  in- 
terduce  yeh.  They're  a  great  gang! 
Gre-e-at ! " 

"  I'd  like  teh,"  said  Kelcey. 

"Well,  come  ahead,  then,"  cried  the 
other,  cordially.  "Ye'd  like  t'  know 
'em.  It's  an  outa  sight  crowd.  Come 
aroun'  t'-night ! " 

"  I  will  if  I  can." 


14  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

"  Well,  yell  ain't  got  anything  t'  do, 
have  yeh  ?  "  demanded  Jones.  "  Well, 
come  along,  then.  Yeh  might  just  as 
well  spend  yer  time  with  a  good  crowd 
'a  fellahs.  An'  it's  a  great  gang.  Great ! 
Gre-e-at ! " 

"  Well,  I  must  make  fer  home  now, 
anyhow,"  said  Kelcey.  "  It's  late  as 
blazes.  What '11  yeh  take  this  time,  ol' 
man  ?  " 

"  Gimme  little  more  whiskey,  John ! " 

"  Guess  I'll  take  another  beer  !  " 

Jones  emptied  the  whiskey  into  his 

large  mouth   and   then   put   the   glass 

upon  the  bar.    " Been  in  th'  city  long? " 

he  asked.     "  Um — well,  three  years  is  a 

good  deal  fer  a  slick  man.     Doin'  well  ? 

Oh,    well,    nobody's    doin'    well   these 

days."      He   looked    down   mournfully 

at  his  shabby  clothes.     "  Father's  dead. 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  15 

ain't  'ee  ?  Yeh  don't  say  so  ?  Fell  off 
a  scaffoldin',  didn't  'ee  ?  I  heard  it 
somewheres.  Mother's  livin',  of  course? 
I  thought  she  was.  Fine  ol'  lady — 
fi-i-ne.  Well,  you're  th'  last  of  her 
boys.  Was  five  of  yeh  onct,  wasn't 
there  ?  I  knew  foiir  m'self .  Yes,  five  ! 
I  thought  so.  An'  all  gone  but  you, 
hey?  Well,  you'll  have  t'  brace  up  an' 
be  a  comfort  t'  th'  ol'  mother.  Well, 
well,  well,  who  would  'a  thought  that 
on'y  you'd  be  left  out  'a  all  that  mob  'a 
tow-headed  kids.  Well,  well,  well,  it's 
a  queer  world,  ain't  it  ?  " 

A  contemplation  of  this  thought 
made  him  sad.  He  sighed  and  mood- 
ily watched  the  other  sip  beer. 

"Well,  well,  it's  a  queer  world— a 
damn  queer  world." 

"Yes,"  said  Kelcey,   "I'm  th'  on'y 


16  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

one  left ! "  There  was  an  accent  of  dis- 
comfort in  his  voice.  He  did  not  like 
this  dwelling  upon  a  sentiment  that 
was  connected  with  himself. 

"  How  is  th'  olj  lady,  anyhow  ?  "  con- 
tinued Jones.  "  Th'  last  time  I  remem- 
ber she  was  as  spry  as  a  little  ol'  cricket, 
an'  was  helpeltin'  aroun'  th'  country 
lecturin'  before  W.  C.  T.  TJ.'s  an'  one 
thing  an'  another." 

"  Oh,  she's  pretty  well,"  said  Kelcey. 
"An5  outa  five  boys  you're  th'  on'y 
one  she's  got  left?     Well,  well — have 
another  drink  before  yeh  go." 
"  Oh,  I  guess  I've  had  enough." 
A    wounded    expression    came    into 
Jones's  eyes.     "  Oh,  come  on,"  he  said. 
"  Well,  I'll  take  another  beer  ! " 
"  Gimme  little  more  whiskey,  John  !  " 
When  they  had  concluded  this  cere- 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  17 

mony,  Jones  went  with  his  friend 
to  the  door  of  the  saloon.  "  Good- 
by,  ol'  man,"  he  said,  genially.  His 
homely  features  shone  with  friendli- 
ness. "  Come  aroun',  now,  sure.  T'- 
night !  See  ?  They're  a  great  crowd. 
Gre-e-at!" 
2 


II. 


A  MAN  with  a  red,  mottled  face  put 
forth  his  head  from  a  window  and 
cursed  violently.  He  flung  a  bottle 
high  across  two  backyards  at  a  window 
of  the  opposite  tenement.  It  broke 
against  the  bricks  of  the  house  and 
the  fragments  fell  crackling  upon  the 
stones  below.  The  man  shook  his  fist. 

A  bare-armed  woman,  making  an 
array  of  clothes  on  a  line  in  one  of 
the  yards,  glanced  casually  up  at  the 
man  and  listened  to  his  words.  Her 
eyes  followed  his  to  the  other  tenement. 
From  a  distant  window,  a  youth  with  a 
pipe,  yelled  some  comments  upon  the 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  19 

poor  aim.  Two  children,  being  in  the 
proper  yard,  picked  up  the  bits  of 
broken  glass  and  began  to  fondle  them 
as  new  toys. 

From  the  window  at  which  the  man 
raged  came  the  sound  of  an  old  voice, 
singing.  It  quavered  and  trembled 
out  into  the  air  as  if  a  sound-  spirit  had 
a  broken  wing. 

"  Should  I  be  car-reed  tew  th'  skies 

O-on  flow'ry  be-eds  of  ee-ease, 
While  others  fought  tew  win  th'  prize 
An'  sailed  through  blood-ee  seas." 

The  man  in  the  opposite  window  was 
greatly  enraged.  He  continued  to 
swear. 

A  little  old  woman  was  the  owner  of 
the  voice.  In  a  fourth-story  room  of 
the  red  and  black  tenement  she  was 
trudging  on  a  journey.  In  her  arms 


20  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

she  bore  pots  and  pans,  and  sometimes 
a  broom  and  dust-pan.  She  wielded 
them  like  weapons.  Their  weight 
seemed  to  have  bended  her  back  and 
crooked  her  arms  until  she  walked  with 
difficulty.  Often  she  plunged  her 
hands  into  water  at  a  sink.  She 
splashed  about,  the  dwindled  muscles 
working  to  and  fro  under  the  loose 
skin  of  her  arms.  She  came  from  the 
sink,  steaming  and  bedraggled  as  if  she 
had  crossed  a  flooded  river. 

There  was  the  flurry  of  a  battle  in 
this  room.  Through  the  clouded  dust 
or  steam  one  could  see  the  thin  figure 
dealing  mighty  blows.  Always  her  way 
seemed  beset.  Her  broom  was  continu- 
ally poised,  lance-wise,  at  dust  demons. 
There  came  clashings  and  clangings  as 
she  strove  with  her  tireless  foes. 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  21 

It  was  a  picture  of  indomitable  cour- 
age. And  as  she  went  on  her  way  her 
voice  was  often  raised  in  a  long  cry,  a 
strange  war-chant,  a  shout  of  battle 
and  defiance,  that  rose  and  fell  in  harsh 
screams,  and  exasperated  the  ears  of 
the  man  with  the  red,  mottled  face. 

' '  Should  I  be  car-reed  tew  tli'  skies 
O-on  flow'ry  be-eds  of  ee-ease " 

Finally  she  halted  for  a  moment. 
Going  to  the  window  she  sat  down  and 
•mopped  her  face  with  her  apron.  It 
was  a  lull,  a  moment  of  respite.  Still 
it  could  be  seen  that  she  even  then 
was  planning  skirmishes,  charges,  cam- 
paigns. She  gazed  thoughtfully  about 
the  room  and  noted  the  strength  and 
position  of  her  enemies.  She  was  very 
alert. 


22  GEORGE'S   MOTHER. 

At  last,  she  turned  to  the  mantel. 
"  Five  o'clock  "  she  murmured,  scruti- 
nizing a  little,  swaggering,  nickle-plated 
clock. 

She  looked  out  at  chimneys  growing 
thickly  on  the  roofs.  A  man  at  work 
on  one  seemed  like  a  bee.  In  the  in- 
tricate yards  below,  vine-like  lines  had 
strange  leaves  of  cloth.  To  her  ears 
there  came  the  howl  of  the  man  with 
the  red,  mottled  face.  He  was  engaged 
in  a  furious  altercation  with  the  youth 
who  had  called  attention  to  his  poor 
aim.  They  were  like  animals  in  a 
jungle. 

In  the  distance  an  enormous  brew- 
ery towered  over  the  other  buildings. 
Great  gilt  letters  advertised  a  brand  of 
beer.  Thick  smoke  came  from  funnels 
and  spread  near  it  like  vast  and  power- 


GEORGE'S   MOTHER.  23 

ful  wings.  The  structure  seemed  a 
great  bird,  flying.  The  letters  of  the 
sign  made  a  chain  of  gold  hanging  from 
its  neck.  The  little  old  woman  looked 
at  the  brewery.  It  vaguely  interested 
her,  for  a  moment,  as  a  stupendous  af- 
fair, a  machine  of  mighty  strength. 

Presently  she  sprang  from  her  rest 
and  began  to  buffet  with  her  shrivelled 
arms.  In  a  moment  the  battle  was 
again  in  full  swing.  Terrific  blows 
were  given  and  received.  There  arose 
the  clattering  uproar  of  a  new  fight. 
The  little  intent  warrior  never  hesitated 
nor  faltered.  She  fought  with  a  strong 
and  relentless  will.  Beads  and  lines  of 
perspiration  stood  upon  her  forehead. 

Three  blue  plates  were  leaning  in  a 
row  on  the  shelf  back  of  the  stove. 
The  little  old  woman  had  seen  it  done 


24  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

somewhere.  In  front  of  them  swag- 
gered the  round  nickle-plated  clock. 
Her  son  had  stuck  many  cigarette  pict- 
ures in  the  rim  of  a  looking-glass  that 
hung  near.  Occasional  chromos  were 
tacked  upon  the  yellowed  walls  of  the 
room.  There  was  one  in  a  gilt  frame. 
It  was  quite  an  affair,  in  reds  and 
greens.  They  all  seemed  like  trophies. 

It  began  to  grow  dark.  A  mist  came 
winding.  Rain  plashed  softly  upon  the 
window-sill.  A  lamp  had  been  lighted 
in  the  opposite  tenement;  the  strong 
orange  glare  revealed  the  man  with  a 
red,  mottled  face.  He  was  seated  by  a 
table,  smoking  and  reflecting. 

The  little  old  woman  looked  at  the 
clock  again.  "  Quarter  'a  six." 

She  had  paused  for  a  moment,  but 
she  now  hurled  herself  fiercely  at  the 


GEORGE1 8   MOTHER.  25 

stove  that  lurked  in  the  gloom,  red- 
eyed,  like  a  dragon.  It  hissed,  and 
there  was  renewed  clangor  of  blows. 
The  little  old  woman  dashed  to  and  fro. 


DDL 

As  it  grew  toward  seven  o'clock  the 
little  old  woman  became  nervous.  She 
often  would  drop  into  a  chair  and  sit 
staring  at  the  little  clock. 

"  I  wonder  why  he  don't  come,"  she 
continually  repeated.  There  was  a 
small,  curious  note  of  despair  in  her 
voice.  As  she  sat  thinking  and  staring 
at  the  clock  the  expressions  of  her  face 
changed  swiftly.  All  manner  of  emo- 
tions nickered  in  her  eyes  and  about 
her  lips.  She  was  evidently  perceiving 
in  her  imagination  the  journey  of  a 
loved  person.  She  dreamed  for  him 
mishaps  and  obstacles.  Something  tre- 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  27 

mendous  and  irritating  was  hindering 
him  from  coming  to  her. 

She  had  lighted  an  oil -lamp.  It 
flooded  the  room  with  vivid  yellow 
glare.  The  table,  in  its  oil-cloth  cover- 
ing, had  previously  appeared  like  a  bit  of 
bare,  brown  desert.  It  now  was  a  white 
garden,  growing  the  fruits  of  her  labor. 

"Seven  o'clock,"  she  murmured, 
finally.  She  was  aghast. 

Then  suddenly  she  heard  a  step  upon 
the  stair.  She  sprang  up  and  began  to 
bustle  about  the  room.  The  little  fear- 
ful emotions  passed  at  once  from  her 
face.  She  seemed  now  to  be  ready  to 
scold. 

Young  Kelcey  entered  the  room.  He 
gave  a  sigh  of  relief,  and  dropped  his 
pail  in  a  corner.  He  was  evidently 
greatly  wearied  by  a  hard  day  of  toil. 


28  GEORGE'S   MOTHER. 

The  little  old  woman  hobbled  over  to 
him  and  raised  her  wrinkled  lips.  She 
seemed  on  the  verge  of  tears  and  an 
outburst  of  reproaches. 

"  Hello ! "  he  cried,  in  a  voice  of 
cheer.  "  Been  gettin'  anxious  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  hovering  about  him. 
"Where  yeh  been,  George?  What 
made  yeh  so  late?  I've  been  waitin' 
th'  longest  while.  Don't  throw  your 
coat  down  there.  Hang  it  up  behind 
th'  door." 

The  son  put  his  coat  on  the  proper 
hook,  and  then  went  to  splatter  water 
in  a  tin  wash-basin  at  the  sink. 

"  Well,  yeh  see,  I  met  Jones— you  re- 
member Jones  ?  Ol'  Handy ville  fellah. 
An'  we  had  t'  stop  an'  talk  over  ol' 
times.  Jones  is  quite  a  boy." 

The  little  old  woman's  mouth  set  in 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  29 

a  sudden  straight  line.  "  Oh,  that 
Jones,"  she  said.  "  I  don't  like  him." 

The  youth  interrupted  a  flurry  of 
white  towel  to  give  a  glance  of  irrita- 
tion. "  Well,  now,  what's  th'  use  of 
talkin'  that  way?"  he  said  to  her. 
"  "What  do  yeh  know  'bout  'im  ?  Ever 
spoke  to  'im  in  yer  life  ?  " 

"Well,  I  don't  know  as  I  ever  did 
since  he  grew  up,"  replied  the  little  old 
woman.  "  But  I  know  he  ain't  th'  kind 
'  a  man  I'd  like  t'  have  you  go  around 
with.  He  ain't  a  good  man.  I'm  sure 
he  ain't.  He  drinks." 

Her  son  began  to  laugh.  "  Th'  dick- 
ens he  does  ?  "  He  seemed  amazed,  but 
not  shocked  at  this  information. 

She  nodded  her  head  with  the  air  of 
one  who  discloses  a  dreadful  thing. 
"  I'm  sure  of  it !  Once  I  saw  'im  comin' 


30  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

outa  Simpson's  Hotel,  up  in  Handy- 
ville,  an'  he  could  hardly  walk.  He 
drinks !  I'm  sure  he  drinks !  " 

"Holy  smoke !  "  said  Kelcey. 

They  sat  down  at  the  table  and  be- 
gan to  wreck  the  little  white  garden. 
The  youth  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  in 
the  manner  of  a  man  who  is  paying  for 
things.  His  mother  bended  alertly  for- 
ward, apparently  watching  each  mouth- 
ful. She  perched  on  the  edge  of  her 
chair,  ready  to  spring  to  her  feet  and 
run  to  the  closet  or  the  stove  for  any- 
thing that  he  might  need.  She  was  as 
anxious  as  a  young  mother  with  a  babe. 
In  the  careless  and  comfortable  atti- 
tude of  the  son  there  was  denoted  a 
great  deal  of  dignity. 

"  Yeh  ain't  eatin'  much  t' -night, 
George?" 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  31 

"Well,  I  ain't  very  hungry,  t'  tell 
th'  truth." 

"Don't  yeh  like  yer  supper,  dear? 
Yeh  must  eat  somethin',  chile.  Yeh 
mustn't  go  without." 

"Well,  I'm  eatin'  somethin',  ain't 
I?" 

He  wandered  aimlessly  through  the 
meal.  She  sat  over  behind  the  little 
blackened  coffee-pot  and  gazed  affec- 
tionately upon  him. 

After  a  time  she  began  to  grow  agi- 
tated. Her  worn  fingers  were  gripped. 
It  could  be  seen  that  a  great  thought 
was  within  her.  She  was  about  to  ven- 
ture something.  She  had  arrived  at  a 
supreme  moment.  "  George,"  she  said, 
suddenly,  "  come  t'  prayer-meetin'  with 
me  t'-night." 

The   young  man   dropped   his   fork. 


32  GEORGE'S   MOTHER. 

"  Say,  you  must  be  crazy,"  he  said,  in 
amazement. 

"Yes,  dear,"  she  continued,  rapidly, 
in  a  small  pleading  voice,  "I'd  like  t' 
have  yeh  go  with  me  onct  in  a  while. 
Yeh  never  go  with  me  any  more,  dear, 
an'  I'd  like  t'  have  yeh  go.  Yeh  ain't 
been  anywheres  at  all  with  me  in  th' 
longest  while." 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  well,  but  what  th' 
blazes " 

"Ah,  come  on,"  said  the  little  old 
woman.  She  went  to  him  and  put  her 
arms  about  his  neck.  She  began  to 
coax  him  with  caresses. 

The  young  man  grinned.  "  Thunder- 
ation ! "  he  said,  "  what  would  I  do  at 
a  prayer-meetin'  ?  " 

The  mother  considered  him  to  be  con- 
senting. She  did  a  little  antique  caper. 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  33 

"  Well,  yeh  can  come  an'  take  care  'a 
yer  mother,"  she  cried,  gleefully.  "  It's 
such  a  long  walk  every  Thursday  night 
alone,  an'  don't  yeh  s'pose  that  when  I 
have  such  a  big,  fine,  strappin'  boy,  I 
want  'im  t'  beau  me  aroun'  some?  Ah, 
I  knew  ye'd  come." 

He  smiled  for  a  moment,  indulgent 
of  her  humor.  But  presently  his  face 
turned  a  shade  of  discomfort.  "But," 
he  began,  protesting. 

"Ah,  come  on,"  she  continually  re- 
peated. 

He  began  to  be  vexed.  He  frowned 
into  the  air.  A  vision  came  to  him  of 
dreary  blackness  arranged  in  solemn 
rows.  A  mere  dream  of  it  was  depress- 
ing. 

"But — "  he  said  again.  He  was 
obliged  to  make  great  search  for  an  ar- 


34:  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

gument.  Finally  lie  concluded,  "But 
what  th'  blazes  would  I  do  at  prayer- 
meetin'  ?  " 

In  his  ears  was  the  sound  of  a  hymn, 
made  by  people  who  tilted  their  heads 
at  a  prescribed  angle  of  devotion.  It 
would  be  too  apparent  that  they  were 
all  better  than  he.  When  he  entered 
they  would  turn  their  heads  and  regard 
him  with  suspicion.  This  would  be  an 
enormous  aggravation,  since  he  was 
certain  that  he  was  as  good  as  they. 

"Well,  now,  y'  see,"  he  said,  quite 
gently,  "I  don't  wanta  go,  an'  it 
wouldn't  do  me  no  good  t'  go  if  I 
didn't  wanta  go." 

His  mother's  face  swiftly  changed. 
She  breathed  a  huge  sigh,  the  coun- 
terpart of  ones  he  had  heard  upon  like 
occasions.  She  put  a  tiny  black  bonnet 


GEORGE'S   MOTHER.  35 

on  her  head,  and  wrapped  her  figure  in 
an  old  shawl.  She  cast  a  martyr-like 
glance  upon  her  son  and  went  mourn- 
fully away.  She  resembled  a  limited 
funeral  procession. 

The  young  man  writhed  under  it  to 
an  extent.  He  kicked  moodily  at  a 
table-leg.  When  the  sound  of  her 
footfalls  died  away  he  felt  distinctly 
relieved. 


IV. 

THAT  night,  when  Kelcey  arrived  at 
the  little  smiling  saloon,  he  found  his 
friend  Jones  standing  before  the  bar 
engaged  in  a  violent  argument  with  a 
stout  man. 

"Oh,  well,"  this  latter  person  was 
saying,  "you  can  make  a  lot  of  noise, 
Charlie,  for  a  man  that  never  says  any- 
thing— let's  have  a  drink !  " 

Jones  was  waving  his  arms  and  de- 
livering splintering  blows  upon  some 
distant  theories.  The  stout  man  chuc- 
kled fatly  and  winked  at  the  bartender. 

The  orator  ceased  for  a  moment  to 
say,  "Gimme  little  whiskey,  John." 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  37 

At  the  same  time  he  perceived  young 
Kelcey.  He  sprang  forward  with  a 
welcoming  cry.  "  Hello,  ol'  man,  didn't 
much  think  ye'd  come."  He  led  him  to 
the  stout  man. 

"  Mr.  Bleecker — my  friend  Mr.  Kel- 
cey ! " 

"Howd'yehdo!" 

"  Mr.  Kelcey,  I'm  happy  to  meet  you, 
sir;  have  a  drink." 

They  drew  up  in  line  and  waited. 
The  busy  hands  of  the  bartender 
made  glasses  clink.  Mr.  Bleecker,  in 
a  very  polite  way,  broke  the  waiting 
silence. 

"  Never  been  here  before,  I  believe, 
have  you,  Mr.  Kelcey  ?  " 

The  young  man  felt  around  for  a 
high-bred  reply.  "  Er — no — I've  never 
had  that — er — pleasure,"  he  said. 


38  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

After  a  time  the  strained  and  wary 
courtesy  of  their  manners  wore  away. 
It  became  evident  to  Bleecker  that  his 
importance  slightly  dazzled  the  young 
man.  He  grew  warmer.  Obviously, 
the  youth  was  one  whose  powers  of 
perception  were  developed.  Directly, 
then,  he  launched  forth  into  a  tale  of 
by-gone  days,  when  the  world  was  bet- 
ter. He  had  known  all  the  great  men 
of  that  age.  He  reproduced  his  con- 
versations with  them.  There  were 
traces  of  pride  and  of  mournfulness  in 
his  voice.  He  rejoiced  at  the  glory  of 
the  world  of  dead  spirits.  He  grieved 
at  the  youth  and  flippancy  of  the  pres- 
ent one.  He  lived  with  his  head  in 
the  clouds  of  the  past,  and  he  seemed 
obliged  to  talk  of  what  he  saw  there. 

Jones  nudged  Kelcey  ecstatically  in 


GEORGE'S   MOTHER.  39 

the  ribs.  "You've  got  th'  ol'  man 
started  in  great  shape,"  he  whispered. 

Kelcey  was  proud  that  the  prominent 
character  of  the  place  talked  at  him, 
glancing  into  his  eyes  for  appreciation 
of  fine  points. 

Presently  they  left  the  bar,  and  go- 
ing into  a  little  rear  room,  took  seats 
about  a  table.  A  gas-jet  with  a  colored 
globe  shed  a  crimson  radiance.  The 
polished  wood  of  walls  and  furniture 
gleamed  with  faint  rose-colored  reflec- 
tions. Upon  the  floor  sawdust  was 
thickly  sprinkled. 

Two  other  men  presently  came.  By 
the  time  Bleecker  had  told  three  tales 
of  the  grand  past,  Kelcey  was  slightly 
acquainted  with  everybody. 

He  admired  Bleecker  immensely.  He 
developed  a  brotherly  feeling  for  the 


40  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

others,  who  were  all  gentle-spoken.  He 
began  to  feel  that  he  was  passing  the 
happiest  evening  of  his  life.  His  com- 
panions were  so  jovial  and  good-nat- 
ured; and  everything  they  did  was 
marked  by  such  courtesy. 

For  a  time  the  two  men  who  had 
come  in  late  did  not  presume  to  ad- 
dress him  directly.  They  would  say  : 
"  Jones,  won't  your  friend  have  so  and 
so,  or  so  and  so  ? "  And  Bleecker 
would  begin  his  orations :  "  Now,  Mr. 
Kelcey,  don't  you  think " 

Presently  he  began  to  believe  that  he 
was  a  most  remarkably  fine  fellow,  who 
had  at  last  found  his  place  in  a  crowd 
of  most  remarkably  fine  fellows. 

Jones  occasionally  breathed  com- 
ments into  his  ear. 

"I  tell  yeh,  Bleecker's   an   ol'-timer. 


GEORGE'S   MOTHER.  41 

He  was  a  husky  guy  in  his  day,  yeh 
can  bet.  He  was  one  'a  th'  best  known 
men  in  N*  York  onct.  Yeh  ought  to 
hear  him  tell  about " 

Kelcey  listened  intently.  He  was 
profoundly  interested  in  these  intimate 
tales  of  men  who  had  gleamed  in  the 
rays  of  old  suns. 

"  That  O'Connor's  a  damn  fine  fellah," 
interjected  Jones  once,  referring  to  one 
of  the  others.  "  He's  one  'a  th'  best 
fellahs  I  ever  knowed.  He's  always  on 
th'  dead  level.  An'  he's  always  jest  th' 
same  as  yeh  see  'im  now — good-natured 
an'  grinnin'." 

Kelcey  nodded.  He  could  well  be- 
lieve it. 

When  he  offered  to  buy  drinks  there 
came  a  loud  volley  of  protests.  "No, 
no,  Mr.  Kelcey,"  cried  Bleecker,  "  no, 


42  GEORGE'S    MOTHEB. 

no.  To-night  you  are  our  guest. 
Some  other  time " 

"Here,"  said  O'Connor,  "it's  my 
turn  now." 

He  called  and  pounded  for  the  bar- 
tender. He  then  sat  with  a  coin  in  his 
hand  warily  eying  the  others.  He  was 
ready  to  frustrate  them  if  they  offered 
to  pay. 

After  a  time  Jones  began  to  develop 
qualities  of  great  eloquence  and  wit. 
His  companions  laughed.  "It's  the 
whiskey  talking  now,"  said  Bleecker. 

He  grew  earnest  and  impassioned. 
He  delivered  speeches  on  various  sub- 
jects. His  lectures  were  to  him  very 
imposing.  The  force  of  his  words 
thrilled  him.  Sometimes  he  was  over- 
come. 

The   others  agreed  with  him  in  all 


GEORGE'S   MOTHER.  43 

things.  Bleecker  grew  almost  tender, 
and  considerately  placed  words  here 
and  there  for  his  use.  As  Jones  be- 
came fiercely  energetic  the  others  be- 
came more  docile  in  agreeing.  They 
soothed  him  with  friendly  interjec- 
tions. 

His  mode  changed  directly.  He  be- 
gan to  sing  popular  airs  with  enthusiasm. 
He  congratulated  his  companions  upon 
being  in  his  society.  They  were  excited 
by  his  frenzy.  They  began  to  frater- 
nize in  jovial  fashion.  It  was  under- 
stood that  they  were  true  and  tender 
spirits.  They  had  come  away  from  a 
grinding  world  filled  with  men  who 
were  harsh. 

When  one  of  them  chose  to  divulge 
some  place  where  the  world  had  pierced 
him,  there  was  a  chorus  of  violent  sym- 


44  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

pathy.  They  rejoiced  at  their  tem- 
porary isolation  and  safety. 

Once  a  man,  completely  drunk,  stum- 
bled along  the  floor  of  the  saloon.  He 
opened  the  door  of  the  little  room  and 
made  a  show  of  entering.  The  men 
sprang  instantly  to  their  feet.  They 
were  ready  to  throttle  any  invader  of 
their  island.  They  elbowed  each  other 
in  rivalry  as  to  who  should  take  upon 
himself  the  brunt  of  an  encounter. 

"  Oh ! "  said  the  drunken  individual, 
swaying  on  his  legs  and  blinking  at  the 
party,  "  oh  !  thish  private  room  ?  " 

"  That's  what  it  is,  Willie,"  said 
Jones.  "  An'  you  git  outa  here  er  we'll 
throw  yeh  out." 

"That's  what  we  will,"  said  the 
others. 

"  Oh,"   said  the  drunken  man.     He 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  45 

blinked  at  them  aggrievedly  for  an  in- 
stant and  then  went  away. 

They  sat  down  again.  Kelcey  felt, 
in  a  way,  that  he  would  have  liked  to 
display  his  fidelity  to  the  others  by 
whipping  the  intruder. 

The  bartender  came  often.  "Gee, 
you  fellahs  er  tanks,"  he  said,  in  a 
jocular  manner,  as  he  gathered  empty 
glasses  and  polished  the  table  with  his 
little  towel. 

Through  the  exertions  of  Jones  the 
little  room  began  to  grow  clamorous. 
The  tobacco-smoke  eddied  about  the 
forms  of  the  men  in  ropes  and  wreaths. 
Near  the  ceiling  there  was  a  thick  gray 
cloud. 

Each  man  explained,  in  his  way,  that 
he  was  totally  out  of  place  in  the  before- 
mentioned  world.  They  were  pos- 


46  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

sessed  of  various  virtues  which  were  un- 
appreciated by  those  with  whom  they 
were  commonly  obliged  to  mingle ; 
they  were  fitted  for  a  tree-shaded  land, 
where  everything  was  peace.  Now  that 
five  of  them  had  congregated  it  gave 
them  happiness  to  speak  their  inmost 
thoughts  without  fear  of  being  misun* 
derstood. 

As  he  drank  more  beer  Kelcey  felt 
his  breast  expand  with  manly  feeling. 
He  knew  that  he  was  capable  of  sub- 
lime things.  He  wished  that  some  day 
one  of  his  present  companions  would 
come  to  him  for  relief.  His  mind 
pictured  a  little  scene.  In  it  he  was 
magnificent  in  his  friendship. 

He  looked  upon  the  beaming  faces 
and  knew  that  if  at  that  instant  there 
should  come  a  time  for  a  great  sacrifice 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  47 

he  would  blissfully  make  it.  He  would 
pass  tranquilly  into  the  unknown,  or  into 
bankruptcy,  amid  the  ejaculations  of 
his  companions  upon  his  many  virtues. 

They  had  no  bickerings  during  the 
evening.  If  one  chose  to  momentarily 
assert  himself,  the  others  instantly  sub- 
mitted. 

They  exchanged  compliments.  Once 
old  Bleecker  stared  at  Jones  for  a  few 
moments.  Suddenly  he  broke  out : 
"  Jones,  you're  one  of  the  finest  fellows 
I  ever  knew ! "  A  flush  of  pleasure 
went  over  the  other's  face,  and  then  he 
made  a  modest  gesture,  the  protest  of  an 
humble  man.  "  Don't  flim-flam  me,  ol' 
boy,"  he  said,  with  earnestness.  But 
Bleecker  roared  that  he  was  serious 
about  it.  The  two  men  arose  and 
shook  hands  emotionally.  Jones  bunt- 


48  GEORGE'S   MOTHER. 

ed  against  the  table  and  knocked  off 
a  glass. 

Afterward  a  general  hand-shaking 
was  inaugurated.  Brotherly  sentiments 
flew  about  the  room.  There  was  an  up- 
roar of  fraternal  feeling. 

Jones  began  to  sing.  He  beat  time 
with  precision  and  dignity.  He  gazed 
into  the  eyes  of  his  companions,  trying 
to  call  music  from  their  souls.  O'Con- 
nor joined  in  heartily,  but  with  another 
tune.  Off  in  a  corner  old  Bleecker  was 
making  a  speech. 

The  bartender  came  to  the  door. 
"Gee,  you  fellahs  er  making  a  row. 
It's  time  fer  me  t'  shut  up  th'  front  th' 
place,  an'  you  mugs  better  sit  on  yer- 
selves.  It's  one  o'clock." 

They  began  to  argue  with  him.  Kel- 
cey,  however,  sprang  to  his  feet.  "  One 


GEORGE'S   MOTHER.  49 

o'clock,"  he  said.  "Holy  smoke,  I  mus' 
beflyin'!" 

There  came  protesting  howls  from 
Joues.  Bleecker  ceased  his  oration. 
"My  dear  boy" — he  began.  Kelcey 
searched  for  his  hat.  "  I've  gota  go  t' 
work  at  seven,"  he  said. 

The  others  watched  him  with  dis- 
comfort in  their  eyes.  "  Well,"  said 
O'Connor,  "if  one  goes  we  might  as 
well  all  go."  They  sadly  took  their 
hats  and  filed  out. 

The  cold  air  of  the  street  filled  Kel- 
cey with  vague  surprise.  It  made  his 
head  feel  hot.  As  for  his  legs,  they  were 
like  willow-twigs. 

A  few  yellow  lights  blinked.  In  front 
of  an  all-night  restaurant  a  huge  red 
electric  lamp  hung  and  sputtered. 
Horse-car  bells  jingled  far  down  the 


50  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

street.  Overhead  a  train  thundered  on 
the  elevated  road. 

On  the  sidewalk  the  men  took  fervid 
leave.  They  clutched  hands  with  ex- 
traordinary force  and  proclaimed,  for  the 
last  time,  ardent  and  admiring  friend- 
ships. 

When  he  arrived  at  his  home  Kelcey 
proceeded  with  caution.  His  mother 
had  left  a  light  burning  low.  He  stum- 
bled once  in  his  voyage  across  the  floor. 
As  he  paused  to  listen  he  heard  the 
sound  of  little  snores  coming  from  her 
room. 

He  lay  awake  for  a  few  moments  and 
thought  of  the  evening.  He  had  a  pleas- 
urable consciousness  that  he  had  made 
a  good  impression  upon  those  fine  fel- 
lows. He  felt  that  he  had  spent  the 
most  delightful  evening  of  his  life. 


V. 


KELCEY  was  cross  in  the  morning. 
His  mother  had  been  obliged  to  shake 
him  a  great  deal,  and  it  had  seemed  to 
him  a  most  unjust  thing.  Also,  when 
he,  blinking  his  eyes,  had  entered  the 
kitchen,  she  had  said:  "Yeh  left  th' 
lamp  burnin'  all  night  last  night, 
George.  How  many  times  must  I  tell 
yeh  never  t'  leave  th'  lamp  burnin'  ?  " 

He  ate  the  greater  part  of  his  break- 
fast in  silence,  moodily  stirring  his 
coffee  and  glaring  at  a  remote  corner 
of  the  room  with  eyes  that  felt  as  if 
they  had  been  baked.  When  he  moved 
his  eyelids  there  was  a  sensation  that 


52  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

they  were  cracking.  In  his  mouth 
there  was  a  singular  taste.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  he  had  been  sucking  the 
end  of  a  wooden  spoon.  Moreover,  his 
temper  was  rampant  within  him.  It 
sought  something  to  devour. 

Finally  he  said,  savagely :  "  Damn 
these  early  hours !  " 

His  mother  jumped  as  if  he  had  flung 
a  missile  at  her.  "Why,  George — " 
she  began. 

Kelcey  broke  in  again.  "  Oh,  I  know 
all  that — but  this  gettin'  up  in  th' 
mornin'  so'  early  makes  me  sick.  Jest 
when  a  man  is  gettin'  his  mornin'  nap 
he's  gota  get  up.  I ' 

"George,  dear,"  said  his  mother, 
"yeh  know  how  I  hate  yeh  t'  swear, 
dear.  Now  please  don't."  She  looked 
beseechingly  at  him. 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  53 

He  made  a  swift  gesture.  "Well, 
I  ain't  swearin',  am  I  ?  "  lie  demanded. 
"  I  was  on'y  say  in'  that  this  gettin'-up 
business  gives  me  a  pain,  wasn't  I  ?  " 

"  Well,  yeh  know  how  swearin'  hurts 
me,"  protested  the  little  old  woman. 
She  seemed  about  to  sob.  She  gazed 
off  retrospectively.  She  apparently 
was  recalling  persons  who  had  never 
been  profane. 

"I  don't  see  where  yeh  ever  caught 
this  way  a'  swearin'  out  at  everything," 
she  continued,  presently.  "  Fred,  ner 
John,  ner  Willie  never  swore  a  bit. 
Ner  Tom  neither,  except  when  he  was 
real  mad." 

The  son  made  another  gesture.  It 
was  directed  into  the  air,  as  if  he  saw 
there  a  phantom  injustice.  "  Oh,  good 
thunder,"  he  said,  with  an  accent  of 


54  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

despair.  Thereupon,  he  relapsed  into 
a  mood  of  silence.  He  sombrely  re- 
garded his  plate. 

This  demeanor  speedily  reduced  his 
mother  to  meekness.  When  she  spoke 
again  it  was  in  a  conciliatory  voice. 
"George,  dear,  won't  yeh  bring  some 
sugar  home  t'-night  ?  "  It  could  be 
seen  that  she  was  asking  for  a  crown 
of  gold. 

Kelcey  aroused  from  his  semi-slum- 
ber. "  Yes,  if  I  kin  remember  it,"  he 
said. 

The  little  old  woman  arose  to  stow 
her  son's  lunch  into  the  pail.  When  he 
had  finished  his  breakfast  he  stalked 
for  a  time  about  the  room  in  a  dignified 
way.  He  put  on  his  coat  and  hat,  and 
taking  his  lunch-pail  went  to  the  door. 
There  he  halted,  and  without  turning 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  55 

his  head,  stiffly  said:  "Well,  good- 
by!" 

The  little  old  woman  saw  that  she 
had  offended  her  son.  She  did  not 
seek  an  explanation.  She  was  accus- 
tomed to  these  phenomena.  She  made 
haste  to  surrender. 

"Ain't  yeh  goin'  t'  kiss  me  good- 
by,"  she  asked  in  a  little  woful  voice. 

The  youth  made  a  pretence  of  going 
on,  deaf-heartedly.  He  wore  the  dig- 
nity of  an  injured  monarch. 

Then  the  little  old  woman  called 
again  in  forsaken  accents :  "  George 
— George — ain't  yeh  goin'  t'  kiss  me 
good-by  ?  "  When  he  moved  he  found 
that  she  was  hanging  to  his  coat-tails. 

He  turned  eventually  with  a  murmur 
of  a  sort  of  tenderness.  "  Why,  'a 
course  I  am,"  he  said.  He  kissed  her. 


56  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

Withal  there  was  an  undertone  of  supe- 
riority in  his  voice,  as  if  he  were  grant- 
ing an  astonishing  suit.  She  looked  at 
him  with  reproach  and  gratitude  and 
affection. 

She  stood  at  the  head  of  the  stairs 
and  watched  his  hand  sliding  along  the 
rail  as  he  went  down.  Occasionally 
she  could  see  his  arm  and  part  of  his 
shoulder.  When  he  reached  the  first 
floor  she  called  to  him :  "  Good-by !  " 

The  little  old  woman  went  back  to 
her  work  in  the  kitchen  with  a  frown  of 
perplexity  upon  her  brow.  "  I  wonder 
what  was  th'  matter  with  George  this 
mornin',"  she  mused.  "  He  didn't  seem 
a  bit  like  himself !  " 

As  she  trudged  to  and  fro  at  her 
labor  she  began  to  speculate.  She 
was  much  worried.  She  surmised  in  a 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  57 

vague  way  that  he  was  a  sufferer  from 
a  great  internal  disease.  It  was  some- 
thing no  doubt  that  devoured  the  kid- 
neys or  quietly  fed  upon  the  lungs. 
Later,  she  imagined  a  woman,  wicked 
and  fair,  who  had  fascinated  him  and 
was  turning  his  life  into  a  bitter  thing. 
Her  mind  created  many  wondrous  in- 
fluences that  were  swooping  like  green 
dragons  at  him.  They  were  changing 
him  to  a  morose  man,  who  suffered  si- 
lently. She  longed  to  discover  them, 
that  she  might  go  bravely  to  the  rescue 
of  her  heroic  son.  She  knew  that  he, 
generous  in  his  pain,  would  keep  it 
from  her.  She  racked  her  mind  for 
knowledge. 

However,  when  he  came  home  at 
night  he  was  extraordinarily  blithe. 
He  seemed  to  be  a  lad  of  ten.  He 


58  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

capered  all  about  the  room.  When 
she  was  bringing  the  coffee-pot  from  the 
stove  to  the  table,  he  made  show  of 
waltzing  with  her  so  that  she  spilled 
some  of  the  coffee.  She  was  obliged  to 
scold  him. 

All  through  the  meal  he  made  jokes. 
She  occasionally  was  compelled  to 
laugh,  despite  the  fact  that  she  believed 
that  she  should  not  laugh  at  her  own 
son's  jokes.  She  uttered  reproofs  at 
times,  but  he  did  not  regard  them. 

"  Golly,"  he  said  once,  "  I  feel  fine  as 
silk.  I  didn't  think  I'd  get  over  feelin' 
bad  so  quick.  It — "  He  stopped 
abruptly. 

During  the  evening  he  sat  content. 
He  smoked  his  pipe  and  read  from  an 
evening  paper.  She  bustled  about  at 
her  work.  She  seemed  utterly  happy 


GEORGE'S   MOTHER.  59 

with  him  there,  lazily  puffing  out  little 
clouds  of  smoke  and  giving  frequent 
brilliant  dissertations  upon  the  news  of 
the  day.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she 
must  be  a  model  mother  to  have  such 
a  son,  one  who  came  home  to  her  at 
night  and  sat  contented,  in  a  languor  of 
the  muscles  after  a  good  day's  toil. 
She  pondered  upon  the  science  of  her 
management. 

The  week  thereafter,  too,  she  was  joy- 
ous, for  he  stayed  at  home  each  night  of 
it,  and  was  sunny-tempered.  She  be- 
came convinced  that  she  was  a  perfect 
mother,  rearing  a  perfect  son.  There 
came  often  a  love-light  into  her  eyes. 
The  wrinkled,  yellow  face  frequently 
warmed  into  a  smile  of  the  kind  that  a 
maiden  bestows  upon  him  who  to  her  is 
first  and  perhaps  last. 


VI. 

THE  little  old  woman  habitually  dis- 
couraged all  outbursts  of  youthful 
vanity  upon  the  part  of  her  son.  She 
feared  that  he  would  get  to  think  too 
much  of  himself,  and  she  knew  that 
nothing  could  do  more  harm.  Great 
self-esteem  was  always  passive,  she 
thought,  and  if  he  grew  to  regard  his 
qualities  of  mind  as  forming  a  dazzling 
constellation,  he  would  tranquilly  sit 
still  and  not  do  those  wonders  she  ex- 
pected of  him.  So  she  was  constantly 
on  the  alert  to  suppress  even  a  shadow 
of  such  a  thing.  As  for  him  he  rumi- 
nated with  the  savage,  vengeful  bitter- 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  61 

ness  of  a  young  man,  and  decided  that 
she  did  not  comprehend  him. 

But  despite  her  precautions  he  often 
saw  that  she  believed  him  to  be  the 
most  marvellous  young  man  on  the 
earth.  He  had  only  to  look  at  those 
two  eyes  that  became  lighted  with  a 
glow  from  her  heart  whenever  he  did 
some  excessively  brilliant  thing.  On 
these  occasions  he  could  see  her  glance 
triumphantly  at  a  neighbor,  or  whoever 
happened  to  be  present.  He  grew  to 
plan  for  these  glances.  And  then  he 
took  a  vast  satisfaction  in  detecting 
and  appropriating  them. 

Nevertheless,  he  could  not  under- 
stand why,  directly  after  a  scene  of  this 
kind,  his  mother  was  liable  to  call  to 
him  to  hang  his  coat  on  the  hook  under 
the  mantel,  her  voice  in  a  key  of  de- 


62  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

spair  as  if  he  were  negligent  and  stupid 
in  what  was,  after  all,  the  only  impor- 
tant thing  in  life. 

"If  yeh'll  only  get  in  the  habit  of 
doin'  it,  it'll  be  jest  as  easy  as  thro  win' 
it  down  anywheres,"  she  would  say  to 
him.  "When  ye  pitch  it  down  any- 
wheres, somebody's  got  t'  pick  it  up, 
an'  that'll  most  likely  be  your  poor  ol' 
mother.  Yeh  can  hang  it  up  yerself,  if 
yeh'll  on'y  think."  This  was  intoler- 
able. He  usually  went  then  and  hurled 
his  coat  savagely  at  the  hook.  The 
correctness  of  her  position  was  mad- 
dening. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  anyone  who 
had  a  son  of  his  glowing  attributes 
should  overlook  the  fact  that  he  sel- 
dom hung  up  his  coat.  It  was  impos- 
sible to  explain  this  situation  to  his 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  63 

mother.     She  was  unutterably  narrow. 
He  grew  sullen. 

There  came  a  time,  too,  that,  even  in 
all  his  mother's  tremendous  admiration 
for  him,  he  did  not  entirely  agree  with 
her.  He  was  delighted  that  she  liked 
his  great  wit.  He  spurred  himself  to 
new  and  flashing  effort  because  of 
this  appreciation.  But  for  the  greater 
part  he  could  see  that  his  mother 
took  pride  in  him  in  quite  a  different 
way  from  that  in  which  he  took  pride 
in  himself.  She  rejoiced  at  qualities 
in  him  that  indicated  that  he  was 
going  to  become  a  white  and  loom- 
ing king  among  men.  From  these  she 
made  pictures  in  which  he  appeared  as 
a  benign  personage,  blessed  by  the 
filled  hands  of  the  poor,  one  whose 
brain  could  hold  massive  thoughts  and 


64:  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

awe  certain  men  about  whom  she  had 
read.  She  was  feted  as  the  mother  of 
this  enormous  man.  These  dreams  were 
her  solace.  She  spoke  of  them  to  no 
one  because  she  knew  that,  worded, 
they  would  be  ridiculous.  But  she 
dwelt  with  them,  and  they  shed  a  radi- 
ance of  gold  upon  her  long  days,  her 
sorry  labor.  Upon  the  dead  altars  of 
her  life  she  had  builded  the  little  fires 
of  hope  for  another. 

He  had  a  complete  sympathy  for 
as  much  as  he  understood  of  these 
thoughts  of  his  mother.  They  were  so 
wise  that  he  admired  her  foresight. 
As  for  himself,  however,  most  of  his 
dreams  were  of  a  nearer  time.  He  had 
many  of  the  distant  future  when  he 
would  be  a  man  with  a  cloak  of  cold- 
ness concealing  his  gentleness  and  his 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  65 

faults,  and  of  whom  the  men  and,  more 
particularly,  the  women,  would  think 
with  reverence.  He  agreed  with  his 
mother  that  at  that  time  he  would  go 
through  the  obstacles  to  other  men  like 
a  flung  stone.  And  then  he  would  have 
power  and  he  would  enjoy  having  his 
bounty  and  his  wrath  alike  fall  swift- 
ly upon  those  below.  They  would  be 
awed.  And  above  all  he  would  mystify 
them. 

But  then  his  nearer  dreams  were  a 
multitude.  He  had  begun  to  look  at 
the  great  world  revolving  near  to  his 
nose.  He  had  a  vast  curiosity  concern- 
ing this  city  in  whose  complexities  he 
was  buried.  It  was  an  impenetrable 
mystery,  this  city.  It  was  a  blend  of 
many  enticing  colors.  He  longed  to 
comprehend  it  completely,  that  he 


66  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

might  walk  understandingly  in  its  great- 
est marvels,  its  mightiest  march  of  life, 
sin.  He  dreamed  of  a  comprehension 
whose  pay  was  the  admirable  atti- 
tude of  a  man  of  knowledge.  He  re- 
membered Jones.  He  could  not  help 
but  admire  a  man  who  knew  so  many 
bartenders. 


YII. 

AN  indefinite  woman  was  in  all  of 
Kelcey's  dreams.  As  a  matter  of  fact 
it  was  not  he  whom  he  pictured  as  wed- 
ding her.  It  was  a  vision  of  himself 
greater,  finer,  more  terrible.  It  was 
himself  as  he  expected  to  be.  In  scenes 
which  he  took  mainly  from  pictures, 
this  vision  conducted  a  courtship,  strut- 
ting, posing,  and  lying  through  a  drama 
which  was  magnificent  from  glow  of 
purple.  In  it  he  was  icy,  self-pos- 
sessed ;  but  she,  the  dream-girl,  was  con- 
sumed by  wild,  torrential  passion.  He 
went  to  the  length  of  having  her  display 
it  before  the  people.  He  saw  them 


68  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

wonder  at  his  tranquillity.  It  amazed 
them  infinitely  to  see  him  remain  cold 
before  the  glory  of  this  peerless  wom- 
an's love.  She  was  to  him  as  beseech- 
ing for  affection  as  a  pet  animal,  but 
still  he  controlled  appearances  and  none 
knew  of  his  deep  abiding  love.  Some 
day,  at  the  critical  romantic  time,  he 
was  going  to  divulge  it.  In  these  long 
dreams  there  were  accessories  of  cas- 
tle-like houses,  wide  lands,  servants, 
horses,  clothes. 

They  began  somewhere  in  his  child- 
hood. When  he  ceased  to  see  himself 
as  a  stern  general  pointing  a  sword  at 
the  nervous  and  abashed  horizon,  he 
became  this  sublime  king  of  a  vague 
woman's  heart.  Later  when  he  had 
read  some  books,  it  all  achieved  clearer 
expression.  He  was  told  in  them  that 


GEORGE'S   MOTHER.  69 

there  was  a  goddess  in  the  world  whose 
business  it  was  to  wait  until  he  should 
exchange  a  glance  with  her.  It  became 
a  creed,  subtly  powerful.  It  saved  dis- 
comfort for  him  and  for  several  women 
who  flitted  by  him.  He  used  her  as  a 
standard. 

Often  he  saw  the  pathos  of  her  long 
wait,  but  his  faith  did  not  falter.  The 
world  was  obliged  to  turn  gold  in  time. 
His  life  was  to  be  fine  and  heroic,  else 
he  would  not  have  been  born.  He  be- 
lieved that  the  common-place  lot  was  the 
sentence,  the  doom  of  certain  people 
who  did  not  know  how  to  feel.  His 
blood  was  a  tender  current  of  life.  He 
thought  that  the  usual  should  fall  to 
others  whose  nerves  were  of  lead.  Oc- 
casionally he  wondered  how  fate  was 
going  to  begin  in  making  an  enormous 


TO  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

figure  of  him ;  but  he  had  no  doubt  of 
the  result.  A  chariot  of  pink  clouds 
was  coming  for  him.  His  faith  was 
his  reason  for  existence.  Meanwhile 
he  could  dream  of  the  indefinite  wom- 
an and  the  fragrance  of  roses  that 
came  from  her  hair. 

One  day  he  met  Maggie  Johnson  on 
the  stairs.  She  had  a  pail  of  beer  in 
one  hand  and  a  brown-paper  parcel  un- 
der her  arm.  She  glanced  at  him.  He 
discovered  that  it  would  wither  his  heart 
to  see  another  man  signally  successful 
in  the  smiles  of  her.  And  the  glance 
that  she  gave  him  was  so  indifferent  and 
so  unresponsive  to  the  sudden  vivid  ad- 
miration in  his  own  eyes  that  he  imme- 
diately concluded  that  she  was  magnifi 
cent  in  two  ways. 

As  she  came  to  the  landing,  the  light 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  71 

from  a  window  passed  in  a  silver  gleam 
over  the  girlish  roundness  of  her  cheek. 
It  was  a  thing  that  he  remembered. 

He  was  silent  for  the  most  part  at 
supper  that  night.  He  was  particu- 
larly unkind  when  he  did  speak.  His 
mother,  observing  him  apprehensively, 
tried  in  vain  to  picture  the  new  terrible 
catastrophe.  She  eventually  concluded 
that  he  did  not  like  the  beef-stew.  She 
put  more  salt  in  it. 

He  saw  Maggie  quite  frequently  after 
the  meeting  upon  the  stairs.  He  recon- 
structed his  dreams  and  placed  her  in 
the  full  glory  of  that  sun.  The  dream- 
woman,  the  goddess,  pitched  from  her 
pedestal,  lay  prostrate,  unheeded,  save 
when  he  brought  her  forth  to  call  her 
insipid  and  childish  in  the  presence  of 
his  new  religion. 


72  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

He  was  relatively  happy  sometimes 
when  Maggie's  mother  would  get  drunk 
and  make  terrific  uproars.  He  used 
then  to  sit  in  the  dark  and  make  scenes 
in  which  he  rescued  the  girl  from  her 
hideous  environment. 

He  laid  clever  plans  by  which  he  en- 
countered her  in  the  halls,  at  the  door, 
on  the  street.  When  he  succeeded  in 
meeting  her  he  was  always  overcome 
by  the  thought  that  the  whole  thing 
was  obvious  to  her.  He  could  feel  the 
shame  of  it  burn  his  face  and  neck. 
To  prove  to  her  that  she  was  mistaken 
he  would  turn  away  his  head  or  regard 
her  with  a  granite  stare. 

After  a  time  he  became  impatient  of 
the  distance  between  them.  He  saw 
looming  princes  who  would  aim  to  seize 
her.  Hours  of  his  leisure  and  certain 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  73 

hours  of  his  labor  he  spent  in  contriv- 
ing. The  shade  of  this  girl  was  with 
him  continually.  With  her  he  builded 
his  grand  dramas  so  that  he  trod  in 
clouds,  the  matters  of  his  daily  life  ob- 
scured and  softened  by  a  mist. 

He  saw  that  he  need  only  break  down 
the  slight  conventional  barriers  and  she 
would  soon  discover  his  noble  char- 
acter. Sometimes  he  could  see  it  all 
in  his  mind.  It  was  very  skilful.  But 
then  his  courage  flew  away  at  the  su- 
preme moment.  Perhaps  the  whole 
affair  was  humorous  to  her.  Perhaps 
she  was  watching  his  mental  contor- 
tions. She  might  laugh.  He  felt  that 
he  would  then  die  or  kill  her.  He 
could  not  approach  the  dread  mo- 
ment. He  sank  often  from  the  threshold 
of  knowledge.  Directly  after  these 


74  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

occasions,  it  was  his  habit  to  avoid  her 
to  prove  that  she  was  a  cipher  to  him. 

He  reflected  that  if  he  could  only  get 
a  chance  to  rescue  her  from  something, 
the  whole  tragedy  would  speedily  un- 
wind. 

He  met  a  young  man  in  the  halls  one 
evening  who  said  to  him :  "  Say,  me 
frien',  where  d'  d'  Johnson  birds  live  in 
heh?  I  can't  fin'  me  feet  in  dis 
bloornin'  joint.  I  been  battin'  round 
heh  fer  a  half -hour." 

"Two  flights  up,"  said  Kelcey  ston- 
ily. He  had  felt  a  sudden  quiver  of 
his  heart.  The  grandeur  of  the  clothes, 
the  fine  worldly  air,  the  experience,  the 
self-reliance,  the  courage  that  shone  in 
the  countenance  of  this  other  young 
man  made  him  suddenly  sink  to  the 
depths  of  woe.  He  stood  listening  in 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  75 

the  hall,  flushing  and  ashamed  of  it, 
until  he  heard  them  coming  down-stairs 
together.  He  slunk  away  then.  It 
would  have  been  a  horror  to  him  if  she 
had  discovered  him  there.  She  might 
have  felt  sorry  for  him. 

They  were  going  out  to  a  show,  per- 
haps. That  pig  of  the  world  in  his 
embroidered  cloak  was  going  to  dazzle 
her  with  splendor.  He  mused  upon 
how  unrighteous  it  was  for  other  men 
to  dazzle  women  with  splendor. 

As  he  appreciated  his  handicap  he 
swore  with  savage,  vengeful  bitterness. 
In  his  home  his  mother  raised  her  voice 
in  a  high  key  of  monotonous  irrita- 
bility. "  Hang  up  yer  coat,  can't  yehr 
George  ?  "  she  cried  at  him.  "  I  can't 
go  round  after  yeh  all  th'  time.  It's  jest 
as  easy  t'  hang  it  up  as  it  is  t'  throw  it 


76  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

down  that  way.  Don't  yen  ever  git 
tired  'a  hearin'  me  yell  at  yeh !  " 

"  Yes,"  he  exploded.  In  this  word  he 
put  a  profundity  of  sudden  anger.  He 
turned  toward  his  mother  a  face,  red, 
seamed,  hard  with  hate  and  rage.  They 
stared  a  moment  in  silence.  Then  she 
turned  and  staggered  toward  her  room. 
Her  hip  struck  violently  against  the 
corner  of  the  table  during  this  blind 
passage.  A  moment  later  the  door 
closed. 

Kelcey  sank  down  in  a  chair  with  his 
legs  thrust  out  straight  and  his  hands 
deep  in  his  trousers'  pockets.  His  chin 
was  forward  upon  his  breast  and  his 
eyes  stared  before  him.  There  swept 
over  him  all  the  self-pity  that  comes 
when  the  soul  is  turned  back  from  a 
road. 


vni. 

DUBING  the  next  few  days  Kelcey 
suffered  from  his  first  gloomy  conviction 
that  the  earth  was  not  grateful  to  him 
for  his  presence  upon  it.  When  sharp 
words  were  said  to  him,  he  interpreted 
them  with  what  seemed  to  be  a  lately 
acquired  insight.  He  could  now  per- 
ceive that  the  universe  hated  him.  He 
sank  to  the  most  sublime  depths  of 
despair. 

One  evening  of  this  period  he  met 
Jones.  The  latter  rushed  upon  him 
with  enthusiasm.  "  Why,  yer  jest  th' 
man  I  wanted  t'  see !  I  was  comin' 
round  t'  your  place  t'-night.  Lucky  I 


78  GEORGE'S   MOTHER. 

met  yeh  !  Ol'  Bleecker's  goin'  t*  give  a 
blow-out  t'-morrah  night.  Anything 
yeh  want  t'  drink?  All  th'  boys  '11  be 
there  an'  everything.  He  tol'  me  ex- 
pressly that  he  wanted  yeh  t'  be  there. 
Great  time  !  Great !  Can  yeh  come  ?  " 

Kelcey  grasped  the  other's  hand  with 
fervor.  He  felt  now  that  there  was 
some  solacing  friendship  in  space. 
"  You  bet  I  will,  ol'  man,"  he  said,  hus- 
kily. "I'd  like  nothin'  better  in  th' 
world ! " 

As  he  walked  home  he  thought  that 
he  was  a  very  grim  figure.  He  was 
about  to  taste  the  delicious  revenge  of 
a  partial  self-destruction.  The  universe 
would  regret  its  position  when  it  saw 
him  drunk. 

He  was  a  little  late  in  getting  to 
Bleecker's  lodging.  He  was  delayed 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  79 

while  his  mother  read  aloud  a  letter 
from  an  old  uncle,  who  wrote  in  one 
place  :  "  God  bless  th'  boy  !  Bring  him 
up  to  be  the  man  his  father  was." 
Bleecker  lived  in  an  old  three-storied 
house  on  a  side-street.  A  Jewish  tailor 
lived  and  worked  in  the  front  parlor, 
and  old  Bleecker  lived  in  the  back  par- 
lor. A  German,  whose  family  took  care 
of  the  house,  occupied  the  basement. 
Another  German,  with  a  wife  and  eight 
children,  rented  the  dining-room.  The 
two  upper  floors  were  inhabited  by 
tailors,  dressmakers,  a  pedler,  and  mys- 
terious people  who  were  seldom  seen. 
The  door  of  the  little  hall-bedroom,  at 
the  foot  of  the  second  flight,  was  always 
open,  and  in  there  could  be  seen  two 
bended  men  who  worked  at  mending 
opera-glasses.  The  German  woman  in 


80  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

the  dining-room  was  not  friends  with 
the  little  dressmaker  in  the  rear  room 
of  the  third  floor,  and  frequently  they 
yelled  the  vilest  names  up  and  down 
between  the  balusters.  Each  part  of 
the  woodwork  was  scratched  and  rubbed 
by  the  contact  of  innumerable  persons. 
In  one  wall  there  was  a  long  slit  with 
chipped  edges,  celebrating  the  time  when 
a  man  had  thrown  a  hatchet  at  his  wife. 
In  the  lower  hall  there  was  an  eternal 
woman,  with  a  rag  and  a  pail  of  suds, 
who  knelt  over  the  worn  oilcloth.  Old 
Bleecker  felt  that  he  had  quite  respect- 
able and  high-class  apartments.  He 
was  glad  to  invite  his  friends. 

Bleecker  met  Kelcey  in  the  hall.  He 
wore  a  collar  that  was  cleaner  and 
higher  than  his  usual  one.  It  changed 
his  appearance  greatly.  He  was  now 


GEORGE'S   MOTHER.  81 

formidably  aristocratic.  "  How  are  yeh, 
olj  man?"  he  shouted.  He  grasped 
Kelcey's  arm,  and,  babbling  jovially, 
conducted  him  down  the  hall  and  into 
the  ex-parlor. 

A  group  of  standing  men  made  vast 
shadows  in  the  yellow  glare  of  the 
lamp.  They  turned  their  heads  as  the 
two  entered.  "  Why,  hello,  Kelcey,  ol* 
man,"  Jones  exclaimed,  coming  rapidly 
forward  "  Good  fer  you  !  Glad  yeh 
come !  Yeh  know  O'Connor,  'a  course ! 
An'  Schmidt !  an'  Woods !  Then  there's 
Zeusentell !  Mr.  Zeusentell — my  friend 
Mr.  Kelcey !  Shake  hands — both  good 
fellows,  damnitall !  Then  here  is — oh, 
gentlemen,  my  friend  Mr.  Kelcey!  A 
good  fellow,  he  is,  too!  I've  known 
'im  since  I  was  a  kid !  Come,  have  a 
drink!"  Everybody  was  excessively 


82  GEORGE'S   MOTHER. 

amiable.  Kelcey  felt  that  he  had  social 
standing.  The  strangers  were  cautious 
and  respectful. 

"By  all  means,"  said  old  Bleecker. 
" Mr.  Kelcey,  have  a  drink!  An'  by  th' 
way,  gentlemen,  while  we're  about  it, 
let's  all  have  a  drink!"  There  was 
much  laughter.  Bleecker  was  so  droll 
at  times. 

With  mild  and  polite  gesturing  they 
marched  up  to  the  table.  There  were 
upon  it  a  keg  of  beer,  a  long  row  of 
whiskey  bottles,  a  little  heap  of  corn- 
cob pipes,  some  bags  of  tobacco,  a  box 
of  cigars,  and  a  mighty  collection  of 
glasses,  cups,  and  mugs.  Old  Bleecker 
had  arranged  them  so  deftly  that  they 
resembled  a  primitive  bar.  There  was 
considerable  scuffling  for  possession  of 
the  cracked  cups.  Jones  politely  but 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  83 

vehemently  insisted  upon  drinking  from 
the  worst  of  the  assortment.  He  was 
quietly  opposed  by  others.  Everybody 
showed  that  they  were  awed  by  Bleeck- 
er's  lavish  hospitality.  Their  demeanors 
expressed  their  admiration  at  the  cost 
of  this  entertainment. 

Kelcey  took  his  second  mug  of  beer 
away  to  a  comer  and  sat  down  with 
it.  He  wished  to  socially  reconnoitre. 
Over  in  a  corner  a  man  was  telling  a 
story,  in  which  at  intervals  he  grunted 
like  a  pig.  A  half  dozen  men  were 
listening.  Two  or  three  others  sat  alone 
in  isolated  places.  They  looked  expect- 
antly bright,  ready  to  burst  out  cor- 
dially if  anyone  should  address  them. 
The  row  of  bottles  made  quaint  shadows 
upon  the  table,  and  upon  a  side-wall 
the  keg  of  beer  created  a  portentous 


84  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

black  figure  that  reared  toward  the  ceil- 
ing, hoveling  over  the  room  and  its 
inmates  with  spectral  stature.  Tobacco- 
smoke  lay  in  lazy  cloud-banks  overhead. 
Jones  and  O'Connor  stayed  near  the 
table,  occasionally  being  affable  in  all 
directions.  Kelcey  saw  old  Bleecker  go 
to  them  and  heard  him  whisper :  "  Come 
we  must  git  th'  thing  started.  Git  th' 
thing  started."  Kelcey  saw  that  the 
host  was  fearing  that  all  were  not  hav- 
ing a  good  time.  Jones  conferred  with 
O'Connor  and  then  O'Connor  went  to 
the  man  named  Zeusentell.  O'Connor 
evidently  proposed  something.  Zeusen- 
tell refused  at  once.  O'Connor  be- 
seeched.  Zeusentell  remained  implaca- 
ble. At  last  O'Connor  broke  off  his 
argument,  and  going  to  the  centre  of 
the  room,  held  up  his  hand.  "  Gentle- 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  85 

men,"  he  shouted  loudly,  "  we  will  now 
have  a  recitation  by  Mr.  Zeusentell,  en- 
titled 'Patrick  Clancy's  Pig!'"  He 
then  glanced  triumphantly  at  Zeusentell 
and  said :  "  Come  on ! "  Zeusentell  had 
been  twisting  and  making  pantomimic 
appeals.  He  said,  in  a  reproachful 
whisper :  "  You  son  of  a  gun." 

The  men  turned  their  heads  to  glance 
at  Zeusentell  for  a  moment  and  then 
burst  into  a  sustained  clamor.  "  Hur- 
ray !  Let  'er  go !  Come — give  it  t'  us ! 
Spring  it !  Spring  it !  Let  it  come !  " 
As  Zeusentell  made  no  advances,  they 
appealed  personally.  "Come,  ol'  man, 
let  'er  go!  Whatter  yeh  'fraid  of? 
Let  'er  go !  Go  ahn  !  Hurry  up !  " 

Zeusentell  was  protesting  with  almost 
frantic  modesty.  O'Connor  took  him 
by  the  lapel  and  tried  to  drag  him ;  but 


86  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

he  leaned  back,  pulling  at  his  coat  and 
shaking  his  head.  "No,  no,  I  don't 
know  it,  I  tell  yeh !  I  can't !  I  don't 
know  it!  I  tell  yeh  I  don't  know  it! 
I've  forgotten  it,  I  tell  yeh !  No — no — 
no — no.  Ah,  say,  lookahere,  le'  go  me, 
can't  yeh  ?  What's  th'  matter  with 
yeh?  I  tell  yeh  I  don't  know  it!" 
The  men  applauded  violently.  O'Con- 
nor did  not  relent.  A  little  battle  was 
waged  until  all  of  a  sudden  Zeusentell 
was  seen  to  grow  wondrously  solemn. 
A  hush  fell  upon  the  men.  He  was 
about  to  begin.  He  paused  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor  and  nervously  ad- 
justed his  collar  and  cravat.  The 
audience  became  grave.  " '  Patrick 
Clancy's  Pig,' "  announced  Zeusentell 
in  a  shrill,  dry,  unnatural  tone.  And 
then  he  began  in  rapid  sing-song  : 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  87 

"  Patrick  Clancy  had  a  pig 

Th*  pride  uv  all  th*  nation, 

The  half  uv  him  was  half  as  big 

As  half  uv  all  creation " 

When  he  concluded  the  others  looked 
at  each  other  to  convey  their  apprecia- 
tion. They  then  wildly  clapped  their 
hands  or  tinkled  their  glasses.  As 
Zeusentell  went  toward  his  seat  a  man 
leaned  over  and  asked :  "  Can  yeh  tell 
me  where  I  kin  git  that."  He  had 
made  a  great  success.  After  an  enor- 
mous pressure  he  was  induced  to  recite 
two  more  tales.  Old  Bleecker  finally 
led  him  forward  and  pledged  him  in  a 
large  drink.  He  declared  that  they 
were  the  best  things  he  had  ever  heard. 

The  efforts  of  Zeusentell  imparted  a 
gayety  to  the  company.  The  men  hav- 
ing laughed  together  were  better  ac- 


88  GEORGE'S   MOTHER. 

quainted,  and  there  was  now  a  universal 
topic.  Some  of  the  party,  too,  began 
to  be  quite  drunk. 

The  invaluable  O'Connor  brought 
forth  a  man  who  could  play  the  mouth- 
organ.  The  latter,  after  wiping  his  in- 
strument upon  his  coat-sleeve,  played 
all  the  popular  airs.  The  men's  heads 
swayed  to  and  fro  in  the  clouded 
smoke.  They  grinned  and  beat  time 
with  their  feet.  A  valor,  barbaric  and 
wild,  began  to  show  in  their  poses  and 
in  their  faces,  red  and  glistening  from 
perspiration.  The  conversation  re- 
sounded in  a  hoarse  roar.  The  beer 
would  not  run  rapidly  enough  for  Jones, 
so  he  remained  behind  to  tilt  the  keg. 
This  caused  the  black  shadow  on  the 
wall  to  retreat  and  advance,  sinking 
mystically  to  loom  forward  again  with 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  89 

sudden  menace,  a  huge  dark  figure  con- 
trolled, as  by  some  unknown  emotion. 
The  glasses,  mugs,  and  cups  travelled 
swift  and  regular,  catching  orange  re- 
flections from  the  lamp-light.  Two  or 
three  men  were  grown  so  careless  that 
they  were  continually  spilling  their 
drinks.  Old  Bleecker,  cackling  with 
pleasure,  seized  time  to  glance  trium- 
phantly at  Jones.  His  party  was  going 
to  be  a  success. 


IX. 

OF  a  sudden  Kelcey  felt  the  buoyant 
thought  that  he  was  having  a  good 
time.  He  was  all  at  once  an  enthusiast, 
as  if  he  were  at  a  festival  of  a  religion. 
He  felt  that  there  was  something  fine 
and  thrilling  in  this  affair  isolated  from 
a  stern  world,  and  from  which  the 
laughter  arose  like  incense.  He  knew 
that  old  sentiment  of  brotherly  regard 
for  those  about  him.  He  began  to  con- 
verse tenderly  with  them.  He  was  not 
sure  of  his  drift  of  thought,  but  he 
knew  that  he  was  immensely  sympa- 
thetic. He  rejoiced  at  their  faces, 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  91 

shining  red  and  wrinkled  with  smiles. 
He  was  capable  of  heroisms. 

His  pipe  irritated  him  by  going  out 
frequently.  He  was  too  busy  in  amia- 
ble conversations  to  attend  to  it.  When 
he  arose  to  go  for  a  match  he  discov- 
ered that  his  legs  were  a  trifle  uncertain 
under  him.  They  bended  and  did  not 
precisely  obey  his  intent.  At  the  table 
he  lit  a  match  and  then,  in  laughing  at 
a  joke  made  near  him,  forgot  to  apply  it 
to  the  bowl  of  his  pipe.  He  succeeded 
with  the  next  match  after  annoying 
trouble.  He  swayed  so  that  the  match 
would  appear  first  on  one  side  of  the 
bowl  and  then  on  the  other.  At  last 
he  happily  got  it  directly  over  the  to- 
bacco. He  had  burned  his  fingers.  He 
inspected  them,  laughing  vaguely. 

Jones  came  and  slapped  him  on  the 


92  GEORGE'S   MOTHER. 

shoulder.     "  Well,  ol'  man,  let's  take  a 
drink  fer  ol'  Handyville's  sake ! " 

Kelcey  was  deeply  affected.  He 
looked  at  Jones  with  moist  eyes.  "I'll 
go  yeh,"  he  said.  With  an  air  of  pro- 
found melancholy,  Jones  poured  out 
some  whiskey.  They  drank  reverently. 
They  exchanged  a  glistening  look  of 
tender  recollections  and  then  went  over 
to  where  Bleecker  was  telling  a  humor- 
ous story  to  a  circle  of  giggling  listen- 
ers. The  old  man  sat  like  a  fat,  jolly 
god.  " — and  just  at  that  moment  th' 
old  woman  put  her  head  out  of  th'  win- 
dow an'  said  :  '  Mike,  yez  lezy  divil,  fer 
phwat  do  yez  be  slapin'  in  me  new  ge- 
ranium bid? '  An'  Mike  woke  up  an' 
said:  'Domn  a  washwoman  thot  do 
niver  wash  her  own  bidclues.  Here 
do  I  be  slapin'  in  nothin'  but  dhirt  an 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  93 

wades.'  "  The  men  slapped  their  knees, 
roaring  loudly.  They  begged  him  to 
tell  another.  A  clamor  of  comment 
arose  concerning  the  anecdote,  so  that 
when  old  Bleecker  began  a  fresh  one 
nobody  was  heeding. 

It  occurred  to  Jones  to  sing.  Sud- 
denly he  burst  forth  with  a  ballad  that 
had  a  rippling  waltz  movement,  and 
seizing  Kelcey,  made  a  furious  attempt 
to  dance.  They  sprawled  over  a  pair 
of  outstretched  legs  and  pitched  head- 
long. Kelcey  fell  with  a  yellow  crash. 
Blinding  lights  flashed  before  his  vi- 
sion. But  he  arose  immediately,  laugh- 
ing. He  did  not  feel  at  all  hurt.  The 
pain  in  his  head  was  rather  pleasant. 

Old  Bleecker,  O'Connor,  and  Jones, 
who  now  limped  and  drew  breath 
through  his  teeth,  were  about  to  lead 


94:  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

him  with  much  care  and  tenderness  to 
the  table  for  another  drink,  but  he 
laughingly  pushed  them  away  and  went 
unassisted.  Bleecker  told  him  :  "  Great 
Gawd,  your  head  struck  hard  enough  t' 
break  a  trunk." 

He  laughed  again,  and  with  a  show  of 
steadiness  and  courage  he  poured  out 
an  extravagant  portion  of  whiskey. 
With  cold  muscles  he  put  it  to  his  lips 
and  drank  it.  It  chanced  that  this  ad- 
dition dazed  him  like  a  powerful  blow. 
A  moment  later  it  affected  him  with 
blinding  and  numbing  power.  Sud- 
denly unbalanced,  he  felt  the  room 
sway.  His  blurred  sight  could  only 
distinguish  a  tumbled  mass  of  shadow 
through  which  the  beams  from  the  light 
ran  like  swords  of  flame.  The  sound  of 
the  many  voices  was  to  him  like  the 


GEORGE'S   MOTHER.  95 

roar  of  a  distant  river.  Still,  he  felt 
that  if  he  could  only  annul  the  force 
of  these  million  winding  fingers  that 
gripped  his  senses,  he  was  capable  of 
most  brilliant  and  entertaining  things. 

He  was  at  first  of  the  conviction  that 
his  feelings  were  only  temporary.  He 
waited  for  them  to  pass  away,  but  the 
mental  and  physical  pause  only  caused 
a  new  reeling  and  swinging  of  the 
room.  Chasms  with  inclined  ap- 
proaches were  before  him;  peaks 
leaned  toward  him.  And  withal  he 
was  blind  and  numb  with  surprise.  He 
understood  vaguely  in  his  stupefaction 
that  it  would  disgrace  him  to  fall  down 
a  chasm. 

At  last  he  perceived  a  shadow,  a 
form,  which  he  knew  to  be  Jones. 
The  adorable  Jones,  the  supremely 


96  GEORGE'S   MOTHER. 

wise  Jones,  was  walking  in  this  strange 
land  without  fear  or  care,  erect  and 
tranquil.  Kelcey  murmured  in  admira- 
tion and  affection,  and  fell  toward  his 
friend.  Jones's  voice  sounded  as  from 
the  shores  of  the  unknown.  "  Come, 
come,  ol'  man,  this  will  never  do. 
Brace  up."  It  appeared  after  all  that 
Jones  was  not  wholly  wise.  "  Oh,  I'm 
— all  ri'  Jones !  I'm  all  ri' !  I  wan'  shing 
song !  Tha's  all !  I  wan'  shing  song ! " 

Jones  was  stupid.  "  Come  now,  sit 
down  an'  shut  up." 

It  made  Kelcey  burn  with  fury. 
"Jones,  le'  me  alone,  I  tell  yeh!  Le' 
me  alone!  I  wan'  shing  song  er  te' 
story !  G'l'm'n,  I  lovsh  girl  live  down 
my  shtreet.  Thash  reason  'm  drunk, 
'tis!  She " 

Jones  seized  him  and  dragged  him 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  97 

toward  a  chair.  He  heard  him  laugh. 
He  could  not  endure  these  insults  from 
his  friend.  He  felt  a  blazing  desire  to 
strangle  his  companion.  He  threw  out 
his  hand  violently,  but  Jones  grappled 
him  close  and  he  was  no  more  than  a 
dried  leaf.  He  was  amazed  to  find  that 
Jones  possessed  the  strength  of  twenty 
horses.  He  was  forced  skilfully  to  the 
floor. 

As  he  lay,  he  reflected  in  great  aston- 
ishment upon  Jones's  muscle.  It  was 
singular  that  he  had  never  before  dis- 
covered it.  The  whole  incident  had 
impressed  him  immensely.  An  idea 
struck  him  that  he  might  denounce 
Jones  for  it.  It  would  be  a  sage  thing. 
There  would  be  a  thrilling  and  dramatic 
moment  in  which  he  would  dazzle  all 

the  others.     But  at  this  moment  he  was 

7 


98  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

assailed  by  a  mighty  desire  to  sleep. 
Sombre  and  soothing  clouds  of  slumber 
were  heavily  upon  him.  He  closed  his 
eyes  with  a  sigh  that  was  yet  like  that 
of  a  babe. 

When  he  awoke,  there  was  still  the 
battleful  clamor  of  the  revel.  He  half 
arose  with  a  plan  of  participating,  when 
O'Connor  came  and  pushed  him  down 
again,  throwing  out  his  chin  in  affec- 
tionate remonstrance  and  saying,  "  Now, 
now,"  as  to  a  child. 

The  change  that  had  come  over  these 
men  mystified  Kelcey  in  a  great  degree. 
He  had  never  seen  anything  so  vastly 
stupid  as  their  idea  of  his  state.  He 
resolved  to  prove  to  them  that  they 
were  dealing  with  one  whose  mind  was 
very  clear.  He  kicked  and  squirmed 
in  O'Connor's  arms,  until,  with  a  final 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  99 

wrench,  he  scrambled  to  his  feet  and 
stood  tottering  in  the  middle  of  the 
room.  He  would  let  them  see  that  he 
had  a  strangely  lucid  grasp  of  events. 
"  GTm'n,  I  lovsh  girl !  I  ain'  drunk- 

er'n  yen  all  are  !     She " 

He  felt  them  hurl  him  to  a  corner  of 
the  room  and  pile  chairs  and  tables 
upon  him  until  he  was  buried  beneath 
a  stupendous  mountain.  Far  above,  as 
up  a  mine's  shaft,  there  were  voices, 
lights,  and  vague  figures.  He  was  not 
hurt  physically,  but  his  feelings  were 
unutterably  injured.  He,  the  brilliant, 
the  good,  the  sympathetic  had  been 
thrust  fiendishly  from  the  party.  They 
had  had  the  comprehension  of  red  lob- 
sters. It  was  an  unspeakable  barbarism. 
Tears  welled  piteously  from  his  eyes. 
He  planned  long  diabolical  explanations ! 


AT  first  the  gray  lights  of  dawn  came 
timidly  into  the  room,  remaining  near 
the  windows,  afraid  to  approach  cer- 
tain sinister  corners.  Finally,  mellow 
streams  of  sunshine  poured  in,  undrap- 
ing  the  shadows  to  disclose  the  putrefac- 
tion, making  pitiless  revelation.  Kel- 
cey  awoke  with  a  groan  of  undirected 
misery.  He  tossed  his  stiffened  arms 
about  his  head  for  a  moment  and  then 
leaning  heavily  upon  his  elbow  stared 
blinking  at  his  environment.  The 
grim  truthfulness  of  the  day  showed 
disaster  and  death.  After  the  tumults 
of  the  previous  night  the  interior  of 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  101 

this  room  resembled  a  decaying  battle- 
field. The  air  hung  heavy  and  stifling 
with  the  odors  of  tobacco,  men's  breaths, 
and  beer  half  filling  forgotten  glasses. 
There  was  ruck  of  broken  tumblers, 
pipes,  bottles,  spilled  tobacco,  cigar 
stumps.  The  chairs  and  tables  were 
pitched  this  way  and  that  way,  as  after 
some  terrible  struggle.  In  the  midst  of 
it  all  lay  old  Bleecker  stretched  upon  a 
couch  in  deepest  sleep,  as  abandoned  in 
attitude,  as  motionless,  as  ghastly  as  if  it 
were  a  corpse  that  had  been  flung  there. 
A  knowledge  of  the  thing  came  grad- 
ually into  Kelcey's  eyes.  He  looked 
about  him  with  an  expression  of  ut- 
ter woe,  regret,  and  loathing.  He  was 
compelled  to  lie  down  again.  A  pain 
above  his  eyebrows  was  like  that  from 
an  iron-clamp. 


102  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

As  he  lay  pondering,  his  bodily  con- 
dition created  for  him  a  bitter  philoso- 
phy, and  he  perceived  all  the  futility 
of  a  red  existence.  He  saw  his  life 
problems  confronting  him  like  granite 
giants  and  he  was  no  longer  erect  to 
meet  them.  He  had  made  a  calamitous 
retrogression  in  his  war.  Spectres  were 
to  him  now  as  large  as  clouds. 

Inspired  by  the  pitiless  ache  in  his 
head,  he  was  prepared  to  reform  and 
live  a  white  life.  His  stomach  informed 
him  that  a  good  man  was  the  only  be- 
ing who  was  wise.  But  his  perception 
of  his  future  was  hopeless.  He  was 
aghast  at  the  prospect  of  the  old  rou- 
tine. It  was  impossible.  He  trembled 
before  its  exactions. 

Turning  toward  the  other  way,  he  saw 
that  the  gold  portals  of  vice  no  longer 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  103 

enticed  him.  He  could  not  hear  the 
strains  of  alluring  music.  The  beck- 
oning sirens  of  drink  had  been  killed 
by  this  pain  in  his  head.  The  desires 
of  his  life  suddenly  lay  dead  like  mullein 
stalks.  Upon  reflection,  he  saw,  there- 
fore, that  he  was  perfectly  willing  to 
be  virtuous  if  somebody  would  come 
and  make  it  easy  for  him. 

When  he  stared  over  at  old  Bleecker, 
he  felt  a  sudden  contempt  and  dislike 
for  him.  He  considered  him  to  be  a 
tottering  old  beast.  It  was  disgusting 
to  perceive  aged  men  so  weak  in  sin. 
He  dreaded  to  see  him  awaken  lest 
he  should  be  required  to  be  somewhat 
civil  to  him. 

Kelcey  wished  for  a  drink  of  water. 
For  some  time  he  had  dreamed  of  the 
liquid,  deliciously  cool.  It  was  an  ab- 


104  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

stract,  uncontained  thing  that  poured 
upon  him  and  tumbled  him,  taking 
away  his  pain  like  a  kind  of  surgery. 
He  arose  and  staggered  slowly  toward 
a  little  sink  in  a  corner  of  the  room. 
He  understood  that  any  rapid  move- 
ment might  cause  his  head  to  split. 

The  little  sink  was  filled  with  a  chaos 
of  broken  glass  and  spilled  liquids.  A 
sight  of  it  filled  him  with  horror,  but  he 
rinsed  a  glass  with  scrupulous  care,  and 
filling  it,  took  an  enormous  drink.  The 
water  was  an  intolerable  disappoint- 
ment. It  was  insipid  and  weak  to  his 
scorched  throat  and  not  at  all  cool.  He 
put  down  the  glass  with  a  gesture  of  de- 
spair. His  face  became  fixed  in  the 
stony  and  sullen  expression  of  a  man 
who  waits  for  the  recuperative  power 
of  morrows. 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  105 

Old  Bleecker  awakened.  He  rolled 
over  and  groaned  loudly.  For  awhile 
he  thrashed  about  in  a  fury  of  displeas- 
ure at  his  bodily  stiffness  and  pain. 
Kelcey  watched  him  as  he  would  have 
watched  a  death  agony.  "  Good  Gawd," 
said  the  old  man,  "beer  an'  whiskey 
make  th'  devil  of  a  mix.  Did  yeh  see 
th'  fight  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Kelcey,  stolidly. 

"Why,  Zeusentell  an'  O'Connor  had 
a  great  old  mill.  They  were  scrappin' 
all  over  th'  place.  I  thought  we  were 
all  goin'  t'  get  pulled.  Thompson,  that 
fellah  over  in  th'  corner,  'though,  he  sat 
down  on  th'  Avhole  business.  He  was 
a  dandy !  He  had  t'  poke  Zeusentell ! 
He  was  a  bird !  Lord,  I  wish  I  had  a 
Manhattan !  " 

Kelcey    remained    in    bitter   silence 


106  GEORGE'S    MOTHER. 

while  old  Bleecker  dressed.  "Come 
an'  get  a  cocktail,"  said  the  latter  brisk- 
ly. This  was  part  of  his  aristocracy. 
He  was  the  only  man  of  them  who 
knew  much  about  cocktails.  He  per- 
petually referred  to  them.  "  It'll  brace 
yeh  right  up  !  Come  along !  Say,  you 
get  full  too  soon.  You  oughter  wait  un- 
til later,  me  boy !  You're  too  speedy  ! " 
Kelcey  wondered  vaguely  where  his 
companion  had  lost  his  zeal  for  polished 
sentences,  his  iridescent  mannerisms. 

"  Come  along,"  said  Bleecker. 

Kelcey  made  a  movement  of  dis- 
dain for  cocktails,  but  he  followed  the 
other  to  the  street.  At  the  corner  they 
separated.  Kelcey  attempted  a  friendly 
parting  smile  and  then  went  on  up  the 
street.  He  had  to  reflect  to  know  that 
he  was  erect  and  using  his  own  muscles 


GEORGE'S   MOTHER.  107 

in  walking.  He  felt  like  a  man  of 
paper,  blown  by  the  winds.  Withal, 
the  dust  of  the  avenue  was  galling  to  his 
throat,  eyes,  and  nostrils,  and  the  roar 
of  traffic  cracked  his  head.  He  was 
glad,  however,  to  be  alone,  to  be  rid  of 
old  Bleecker.  The  sight  of  him  had 
been  as  the  contemplation  of  a  disease. 

His  mother  was  not  at  home.  In  his 
little  room  he  mechanically  undressed 
and  bathed  his  head,  arms,  and  shoul- 
ders. When  he  crawled  between  the 
two  white  sheets  he  felt  a  first  lifting  of 
his  misery.  His  pillow  was  soothingly 
soft.  There  was  an  effect  that  was  like 
the  music  of  tender  voices. 

When  he  awoke  again  his  mother  was 
bending  over  him  giving  vent  to  alter- 
nate cries  of  grief  and  joy.  Her  hands 
trembled  so  that  they  were  useless  to 


108  GEORGE  '8  MOTHER. 

her.  "  Oh,  George,  George,  where 
have  yeh  been  ?  What  has  happened  t' 
yeh?  Oh,  George,  I've  been  so  wor- 
ried !  I  didn't  sleep  a  wink  all  night." 

Kelcey  was  instantly  wide  awake. 
With  a  moan  of  suffering  he  turned 
his  face  to  the  wall  before  he  spoke. 
"Never  mind,  mother,  I'm  all  right. 
Don't  fret  now !  I  was  knocked  down 
by  a  truck  last  night  in  th'  street,  an' 
they  took  me  t'  th'  hospital ;  but  it's  all 
right  now.  I  got  out  jest  a  little  while 
ago.  They  told  me  I'd  better  go  home 
an'  rest  up." 

His  mother  screamed  in  pity,  horror, 
joy,  and  self-reproach  for  something 
unknown.  She  frenziedly  demanded  the 
details.  He  sighed  with  unutterable 
weariness.  "  Oh — wait — wait — wait," 
he  said  shutting  his  eyes  as  from  the 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  109 

merciless  monotony  of  a  pain.  "  Wait 
—wait — please  wait.  I  can't  talk  now. 
I  want  t*  rest." 

His  mother  condemned  herself  with 
a  little  cry.  She  adjusted  his  pillow, 
her  hands  shaking  with  love  and  ten- 
derness. "There,  there,  don't  mind, 
dearie  !  But  yeh  can't  think  how  wor- 
ried I  was— an'  crazy.  I  was  near 
frantic.  I  went  down  t'  th'  shop,  an* 
they  said  they  hadn't  seen  anything 
'a  yeh  there.  The  foreman  was  awful 
good  t'  me.  He  said  he'd  come  up  this 
atternoon  t'  see  if  yeh  had  come  home 
yet.  He  tol'  me  not  t'  worry.  Are  yeh 
sure  yer  all  right  ?  Ain't  there  any  thin' 
I  kin  git  fer  yeh  ?  What  did  th'  docter 
say?" 

Kelcey's  patience  was  worn.  He 
gestured,  and  then  spoke  querulously. 


110  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

"Now — now — mother,  it's  all  right,  I 
tell  yeh !  All  I  need  is  a  little  rest  an' 
I'll  be  as  well  as  ever.  But  it  makes  it 
all  th'  worse  if  yeh  stand  there  an*  ask 
me  questions  an'  make  me  think.  Jest 
leave  me  alone  fer  a  little  while,  an'  I'll 
be  as  well  as  ever.  Can't  yeh  do 
that?" 

The  little  old  woman  puckered  her 
lips  funnily.  "My,  what  an  old  bear 
th'  boy  is ! "  She  kissed  him  blithely. 
Presently  she  went  out,  upon  her  face  a 
bright  and  glad  smile  that  must  have 
been  a  reminiscence  of  some  charming 
girlhood. 


XI. 

AT  one  time  Kelcey  had  a  friend  who 
was  struck  in  the  head  by  the  pole  of  a 
truck  and  knocked  senseless.  He  was 
taken  to  the  hospital,  from  which  he 
emerged  in  the  morning  an  astonished 
man,  with  rather  a  dim  recollection  of 
the  accident.  He  used  to  hold  an  old 
brier-wood  pipe  in  his  teeth  in  a  man- 
ner peculiar  to  himself,  and,  with  a 
brown  derby  hat  tilted  back  on  his 
head,  recount  his  strange  sensations. 
Kelcey  had  always  remembered  it  as 
a  bit  of  curious  history.  When  his 
mother  cross-examined  him  in  regard 
to  the  accident,  he  told  this  story  with 


112  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

barely    a    variation.      Its    truthfulness 
was  incontestable. 

At  the  shop  he  was  welcomed  on  the 
following  day  with  considerable  enthu- 
siasm. The  foreman  had  told  the  story 
and  there  were  already  jokes  created 
concerning  it.  Mike  O'Donnell,  whose 
wit  was  famous,  had  planned  a  hu- 
morous campaign,  in  which  he  made 
charges  against  Kelcey,  which  were,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  almost  the  exact  truth. 
Upon  hearing  it,  Kelcey  looked  at  him 
suddenly  from  the  corners  of  his  eyes, 
but  otherwise  remained  imperturbable. 
O'Donnell  eventually  despaired.  "  Yez 
can't  goiy  that  kid!  He  tekes  ut  all 
loike  mate  an'  dhrink."  Kelcey  often 
told  the  story,  his  pipe  held  in  his 
teeth  peculiarly,  and  his  derby  tilted 
back  on  his  head. 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  113 

He  remained  at  home  for  several 
evenings,  content  to  read  the  papers 
and  talk  with  his  mother.  She  began 
to  look  around  for  the  tremendous  rea- 
son for  it.  She  suspected  that  his  near- 
ness to  death  in  the  recent  accident 
had  sobered  his  senses  and  made  him 
think  of  high  things.  She  mused  upon 
it  continually.  When  he  sat  moodily 
pondering  she  watched  him.  She  said 
to  herself  that  she  saw  the  light  break- 
ing in  upon  his  spirit.  She  felt  that  it 
was  a  very  critical  period  of  his  exist- 
ence. She  resolved  to  use  all  her 
power  and  skill  to  turn  his  eyes  toward 
the  lights  in  the  sky.  Accordingly  she 
addressed  him  one  evening.  "Come, 
go  t'  prayer-meetin'  t'-night  with  me, 
will  yeh,  George  ?  "  It  sounded  more 
blunt  than  she  intended. 


114:  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

He  glanced  at  her  in  sudden  sur- 
prise. "  Huh  ?  " 

As  she  repeated  her  request,  her  voice 
quavered.  She  felt  that  it  was  a  su- 
preme moment.  "  Come,  go  t'  prayer- 
meetin'  t'-night,  won't  yeh  ?  " 

He  seemed  amazed.  "  Oh,  I  don't 
know,"  he  began.  He  was  fumbling  in 
his  mind  for  a  reason  for  refusing.  "  I 
don't  wanta  go.  I'm  tired  as  th'  dick- 
ens ! "  His  obedient  shoulders  sank 
down  languidly.  His  head  mildly 
drooped. 

The  little  old  woman,  with  a  quick 
perception  of  her  helplessness,  felt  a 
motherly  rage  at  her  son.  It  was  in- 
tolerable that  she  could  not  impart 
motion  to  him  in  a  chosen  direction. 
The  waves  of  her  desires  were  puny 
against  the  rocks  of  his  indolence.  She 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  115 

Lad  a  great  wish  to  beat  him.  "  I  don't 
know  what  I'm  ever  goin'  t'  do  with 
yeh,"  she  told  him,  in  a  choking  voice. 
"  Yeh  won't  do  anything  I  ask  yeh  to. 
Yeh  never  pay  th'  least  bit  'a  attention 
t'  what  I  say.  Yeh  don't  mind  me  any 
more  than  yeh  would  a  fly.  Whatever 
am  I  goin' t'  do  with  yeh  ?  "  She  faced 
him  in  a  battleful  way,  her  eyes  blazing 
with  a  sombre  light  of  despairing  rage. 

He  looked  up  at  her  ironically.  "I 
don't  know,"  he  said,  with  calmness. 
"What  are  yeh?  "  He  had  traced  her 
emotions  and  seen  her  fear  of  his  re- 
bellion. He  thrust  out  his  legs  in  the 
easy  scorn  of  a  rapier-bravo.  "What 
are  yeh?" 

The  little  old  woman  began  to  weep. 
They  were  tears  without  a  shame  of 
grief.  She  allowed  them  to  run  un- 


116  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

heeded  down  her  cheeks.  As  she  stared 
into  space  her  son  saw  her  regarding 
there  the  powers  and  influences  that 
she  had  held  in  her  younger  life.  She 
was  in  some  way  acknowledging  to  fate 
that  she  was  now  but  withered  grass, 
with  no  power  but  the  power  to  feel 
the  winds.  He  was  smitten  with  a 
sudden  shame.  Besides,  in  the  last  few 
days  he  had  gained  quite  a  character 
for  amiability.  He  saw  something  grand 
in  relenting  at  this  point.  "  Well,"  he 
said,  trying  to  remove  a  sulky  quality 
from  his  voice,  "  well,  if  yer  bound  t' 
have  me  go,  I  s'pose  I'll  have  t'  go." 

His  mother,  with  strange,  immobile 
face,  went  to  him  and  kissed  him  on  the 
brow.  "All  right,  George!"  There 
was  in  her  wet  eyes  an  emotion  which 
he  could  not  fathom. 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  117 

She  put  on  her  bonnet  and  shawl, 
and  they  went  out  together.  She  was 
unusually  silent,  and  made  him  wonder 
why  she  did  not  appear  gleeful  at  his 
coming.  He  was  resentful  because  she 
did  not  display  more  appreciation  of 
his  sacrifice.  Several  times  he  thought 
of  halting  and  refusing  to  go  farther,  to 
see  if  that  would  not  wring  from  her 
some  acknowledgment. 

In  a  dark  street  the  little  chapel  sat 
humbly  between  two  towering  apart- 
ment-houses. A  red  street-lamp  stood 
in  front.  It  threw  a  marvellous  re- 
flection upon  the  wet  pavements.  It 
was  like  the  death- stain  of  a  spirit. 
Farther  up  the  brilliant  lights  of  an 
avenue  made  a  span  of  gold  across  the 
black  street.  A  roar  of  wheels  and  a 
clangor  of  bells  came  from  this  point, 


118  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

interwoven  into  a  sound  emblematic  of 
the  life  of  the  city.  It  seemed  some- 
how to  affront  this  solemn  and  austere 
little  edifice.  It  suggested  an  approach- 
ing barbaric  invasion.  The  little  church, 
pierced,  would  die  with  a  fine,  illimit- 
able scorn  for  its  slayers. 

When  Kelcey  entered  with  his  moth- 
er he  felt  a  sudden  quaking.  His  knees 
shook.  It  was  an  awesome  place  to 
him.  There  was  a  menace  in  the  red 
padded  carpet  and  the  leather  doors, 
studded  with  little  brass  tacks  that 
penetrated  his  soul  with  their  pitiless 
glances.  As  for  his  mother,  she  had 
acquired  such  a  new  air  that  he  would 
have  been  afraid  to  address  her.  He 
felt  completely  alone  and  isolated  at 
this  formidable  time. 

There  was  a  man  in  the  vestibule  who 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  119 

looked  at  them  blandly.  From  within 
came  the  sound  of  singing.  To  Kelcey 
there  was  a  million  voices.  He  dreaded 
the  terrible  moment  when  the  doors 
should  swing  back.  He  wished  to  re- 
coil, but  at  that  instant  the  bland  man 
pushed  the  doors  aside  and  he  followed 
his  mother  up  the  centre  aisle  of  the 
little  chapel.  To  him  there  was  a  riot 
of  lights  that  made  him  transparent. 
The  multitudinous  pairs  of  eyes  that 
turned  toward  him  were  implacable  in 
their  cool  valuations. 

They  had  just  ceased  singing.  He 
who  conducted  the  meeting  motioned 
that  the  services  should  wait  until  the 
new-comers  found  seats.  The  little  old 
woman  went  slowly  on  toward  the  first 
rows.  Occasionally  she  paused  to 
scrutinize  vacant  places,  but  they  did 


120  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

not  seem  to  meet  her  requirements. 
Kelcey  was  in  agony.  He  thought  the 
moment  of  her  decision  would  never 
come.  In  his  unspeakable  haste  he 
walked  a  little  faster  than  his  mother. 
Once  she  paused  to  glance  in  her  calcu- 
lating way  at  some  seats  and  he  forged 
ahead.  He  halted  abruptly  and  re- 
turned, but  by  that  time  she  had  re- 
sumed her  thoughtful  march  up  the 
aisle.  He  could  have  assassinated 
her.  He  felt  that  everybody  must 
have  seen  his  torture,  during  which 
his  hands  were  to  him  like  monstrous 
swollen  hides.  He  was  wild  with  a 
rage  in  which  his  lips  turned  slightly 
livid.  He  was  capable  of  doing  some 
furious,  unholy  thing. 

When  the   little  old  woman   at  last 
took  a  seat,  her  son  sat  down  beside  her 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  121 

slowly  and  stiffly.  He  was  opposing 
his  strong  desire  to  drop. 

When  from  the  mists  of  his  shame 
and  humiliation  the  scene  came  before 
his  vision,  he  was  surprised  to  find  that 
all  eyes  were  not  fastened  upon  his 
face.  The  leader  of  the  meeting  seemed 
to  be  the  only  one  who  saw  him.  He 
stared  gravely,  solemnly,  regretfully. 
He  was  a  pale-faced,  but  plump  young 
man  in  a  black  coat  that  buttoned  to 
his  chin.  It  was  evident  to  Kelcey 
that  his  mother  had  spoken  of  him  to 
the  young  clergyman,  and  that  the  lat- 
ter was  now  impressing  upon  him  the 
sorrow  caused  by  the  contemplation  of 
his  sin.  Kelcey  hated  the  man. 

A  man  seated  alone  over  in  a  corner 
began  to  sing.  He  closed  his  eyes  and 
threw  back  his  head.  Others,  scattered 


122  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

sparsely  throughout  the  innumerable 
light-wood  chairs,  joined  him  as  they 
caught  the  air.  Kelcey  heard  his  moth- 
er's frail,  squeaking  soprano.  The 
chandelier  in  the  centre  was  the  only 
one  lighted,  and  far  at  the  end  of  the 
room  one  could  discern  the  pulpit 
swathed  in  gloom,  solemn  and  mys- 
tic as  a  bier.  It  was  surrounded  by 
vague  shapes  of  darkness  on  which  at 
times  was  the  glint  of  brass,  or  of  glass 
that  shone  like  steel,  until  one  could 
feel  there  the  presence  of  the  army  of 
the  unknown,  possessors  of  the  great 
eternal  truths,  and  silent  listeners  at 
this  ceremony.  High  up,  the  stained- 
glass  windows  loomed  in  leaden  array 
like  dull-hued  banners,  merely  catching 
occasional  splashes  of  dark  wine-color 
from  the  lights.  Kelcey  fell  to  brooding 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  123 

concerning  this  indefinable  presence 
which  he  felt  in  a  church. 

One  by  one  people  arose  and  told 
little  tales  of  their  religious  faith. 
Some  were  tearful  and  others  calm, 
emotionless,  and  convincing.  Kelcey 
listened  closely  for  a  time.  These  peo- 
ple filled  him  with  a  great  curiosity. 
He  was  not  familiar  with  their  types. 

At  last  the  young  clergyman  spoke 
at  some  length.  Kelcey  was  amazed, 
because,  from  the  young  man's  appear- 
ance, he  would  not  have  suspected  him 
of  being  so  glib ;  but  the  speech  had  no 
effect  on  Kelcey,  excepting  to  prove  to 
him  again  that  he  was  damned. 


XIL 

KELCEY  sometimes  wondered  whether 
he  liked  beer.  He  had  been  obliged  to 
cultivate  a  talent  for  imbibing  it.  He 
was  born  with  an  abhorrence  which  he 
had  steadily  battled  until  it  had  come 
to  pass  that  he  could  drink  from  ten  to 
twenty  glasses  of  beer  without  the  act  of 
swallowing  causing  him  to  shiver.  He 
understood  that  drink  was  an  essential 
to  joy,  to  the  coveted  position  of  a  man 
of  the  world  and  of  the  streets.  The 
saloons  contained  the  mystery  of  a 
street  for  him.  When  he  knew  its 
saloons  he  comprehended  the  street. 
Drink  and  its  surroundings  were  the 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  125 

eyes  of  a  superb  green  dragon  to  him. 
He  followed  a  fascinating  glitter,  and 
the  glitter  required  no  explanation. 

Directly  after  old  Bleecker's  party  he 
almost  reformed.  He  was  tired  and 
worn  from  the  tumult  of  it,  and  he  saw 
it  as  one  might  see  a  skeleton  emerged 
from  a  crimson  cloak.  He  wished  then 
to  turn  his  face  away.  Gradually,  how- 
ever, he  recovered  his  mental  balance. 
Then  he  admitted  again  by  his  point  of 
view  that  the  thing  was  not  so  terrible. 
His  headache  had  caused  him  to  exag- 
gerate. A  drunk  was  not  the  blight 
which  he  had  once  remorsefully  named 
it.  On  the  contrary,  it  was  a  mere  un- 
pleasant incident.  He  resolved,  how- 
ever, to  be  more  cautious. 

When  prayer  -  meeting  night  came 
again  his  mother  approached  him  hope- 


126  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

fully.  She  smiled  like  one  whose  re- 
quest is  already  granted.  "Well,  will 
yeh  go  t'  prayer-meetin'  with  ine  t'- 
night  again?" 

He  turned  toward  her  with  eloquent 
suddenness,  and  then  riveted  his  eyes 
upon  a  corner  of  the  floor.  "  Well,  I 
guess  not,"  he  said. 

His  mother  tearfully  tried  to  com- 
prehend his  state  of  mind.  "  What  has 
come  over  yeh  ?  "  she  said,  tremblingly. 
"  Teh  never  used  t'  be  this  way,  George. 
Teh  never  used  t'  be  so  cross  an'  mean 
f  me " 

"  Oh,  I  ain't  cross  an'  mean  t'  yeh," 
he  interpolated,  exasperated  and  violent. 

"  Tes,  yeh  are,  too !  I  ain't  hardly 
had  a  decent  word  from  yeh  in  ever  so 
long.  Ter  as  cross  an'  as  mean  as  yeh 
can  be.  I  don't  know  what  t'  make  of 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  127 

it.  It  can't  be — '  There  came  a  look 
in  her  eyes  that  told  that  she  was  going 
to  shock  and  alarm  him  with  her  heav- 
iest sentence — "it  can't  be  that  yeh've 
got  t'  drinkin'." 

Kelcey  grunted  with  disgust  at  the 
ridiculous  thing.  "Why,  what  an  old 
goose  yer  gettin'  t'  be." 

She  was  compelled  to  laugh  a  little, 
as  a  child  laughs  between  tears  at  a 
hurt.  She  had  not  been  serious.  She 
was  only  trying  to  display  to  him  how 
she  regarded  his  horrifying  mental  state. 
"  Oh,  of  course,  I  didn't  mean  that,  but 
I  think  yeh  act  jest  as  bad  as  if  yeh  did 
drink.  I  wish  yeh  would  do  better, 
George ! " 

She  had  grown  so  much  less  frigid 
and  stern  in  her  censure  that  Kelcey 
seized  the  opportunity  to  try  to  make  a 


128  GEORGE'S   MOTHER. 

joke  of  it.  He  laughed  at  her,  but  she 
shook  her  head  and  continued  :  "  I  do 
wish  yeh  would  do  better.  I  don't  know 
what's  t'  become  'a  yeh,  George.  Yeh 
don't  mind  what  I  say  no  more'n  if  I 
was  th'  wind  in  th'  chirnbly.  Yeh  don't 
care  about  nothin'  'cept  goin'  out  nights. 
I  can't  ever  get  yeh  t'  prayer-meetin' 
ner  church ;  yeh  never  go  out  with  me 
anywheres  unless  yeh  can't  get  out  of 
it;  yeh  swear  an'  take  on  sometimes 
like  everything,  yeh  never — 

He  gestured  wrathfully  in  interrup- 
tion. "  Say,  lookahere,  can't  yeh  think 
'a  something  I  do  ?  " 

She  ended  her  oration  then  in  the 
old  way.  "An'  I  don't  know  what's 
goin' t'  become  'a  yeh." 

She  put  on  her  bonnet  and  shawl  and 
then  came  and  stood  near  him,  expect- 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  129 

antly.  She  imparted  to  her  attitude  a 
subtle  threat  of  unchangeableness.  He 
pretended  to  be  engrossed  in  his  news- 
paper. The  little  swaggering  clock  on 
the  mantel  became  suddenly  evident, 
ticking  with  loud  monotony.  Present- 
ly she  said,  firmly :  "  "Well,  are  yeh 
comin'  ?  " 

He  was  reading. 

"  Well,  are  yeh  comin'  ?  " 

He  threw  his  paper  down,  angrily. 
"  Oh,  why  don't  yeh  go  on  an'  leave  me 
alone  ?  "  he  demanded  in  supreme  im- 
patience. "  "What  do  yeh  wanta  pester 
me  fer  ?  Ye'd  think  there  was  robbers. 
Why  can't  yeh  go  alone  er  else  stay 
home  ?  You  wanta  go  an'  I  don't  wanta 
go,  an'  yeh  keep  all  time  tryin'  t'  drag 
me.  Yeh  know  I  don't  wanta  go."  He 
concluded  in  a  last  defiant  wounding  of 


130  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

her.  "  What  do  I  care  'bout  those  ol' 
bags-a-wind  anyhow?  They  gimme  a 
pain!" 

His  mother  turned  her  face  and  went 
from  him.  He  sat  staring  with  a 
mechanical  frown.  Presently  he  went 
and  picked  up  his  newspaper. 

Jones  told  him  that  night  that  every- 
body had  had  such  a  good  time  at  old 
Bleecker's  party  that  they  were  going 
to  form  a  club.  They  waited  at  the  lit- 
tle smiling  saloon,  and  then  amid  much 
enthusiasm  all  signed  a  membership- 
roll.  Old  Bleecker,  late  that  night,  was 
violently  elected  president.  He  made 
speeches  of  thanks  and  gratification 
during  the  remainder  of  the  meeting. 
Kelcey  went  home  rejoicing.  He  felt  that 
at  any  rate  he  would  have  true  friends. 
The  dues  were  a  dollar  for  each  week. 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  131 

He  was  deeply  interested.  For  a 
number  of  evenings  he  fairly  gobbled 
his  supper  in  order  that  he  might  be  off 
to  the  little  smiling  saloon  to  discuss 
the  new  organization.  All  the  men 
were  wildly  enthusiastic.  One  night 
the  saloon-keeper  announced  that  he 
would  donate  half  the  rent  of  quite  a 
large  room  over  his  saloon.  It  was  an 
occasion  for  great  cheering.  Kelcey's 
legs  were  like  whalebone  when  he  tried 
to  go  up-stairs  upon  his  return  home, 
and  the  edge  of  each  step  was  moved 
curiously  forward. 

His  mother's  questions  made  him 
snarl.  "  Oh,  nowheres  !  "  At  other 
times  he  would  tell  her :  "  Oh,  t'  see 
some  friends  'a  mine  !  Where  d'  yeh 
s'pose?" 

Finally,  some  of  the  women  of  the 


132  GEORGE'S  MOTHER, 

tenement  concluded  that  the  little  old 
mother  had  a  wild  son.  They  came  to 
condole  with  her.  They  sat  in  the 
kitchen  for  hours.  She  told  them  of 
his  wit,  his  cleverness,  his  kind  heart. 


XIII. 

AT  a  certain  time  Kelcey  discovered 
that  some  young  men  who  stood  in  the 
cinders  between  a  brick  wall  and  the 
pavement,  and  near  the  side-door  of  a 
corner  saloon,  knew  more  about  life 
than  other  people.  They  used  to  lean 
there  smoking  and  chewing,  and  com- 
ment upon  events  and  persons.  They 
knew  the  neighborhood  extremely  well. 
They  debated  upon  small  typical  things 
that  transpired  before  them  until  they 
had  extracted  all  the  information  that 
existence  contained.  They  sometimes 
inaugurated  little  fights  with  foreigners 
or  well-dressed  men.  It  was  here  that 


134  GEORGE'S   MOTHER. 

Sapristi  Glielmi,  the  pedler,  stabbed 
Pete  Brady  to  death,  for  which  he  got  a 
life-sentence.  Each  patron  of  the  sa- 
loon was  closely  scrutinized  as  he  en- 
tered the  place.  Sometimes  they  used 
to  throng  upon  the  heels  of  a  man  and 
in  at  the  bar  assert  that  he  had  asked 
them  in  to  drink.  When  he  objected, 
they  would  claim  with  one  voice  that  it 
was  too  deep  an  insult  and  gather  about 
to  thrash  him.  When  they  had  caught 
chance  customers  and  absolute  stran- 
gers, the  barkeeper  had  remained  in 
stolid  neutrality,  ready  to  serve  one  or 
seven,  but  two  or  three  times  they  had 
encountered  the  wrong  men.  Finally, 
the  proprietor  had  come  out  one  morn- 
ing and  told  them,  in  the  fearless  way  of 
his  class,  that  their  pastime  must  cease. 
"It  quits  right  here!  See?  Eight 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  135 

here  !  Th'  nex'  time  yeh  try  t'  work  it, 
I  come  with  th'  bung-starter,  an'  th' 
mugs  I  miss  with  it  git  pulled.  See? 
It  quits  !  "  Infrequently,  however,  men 
did  ask  them  in  to  drink. 

The  policeman  of  that  beat  grew  dig- 
nified and  shrewd  whenever  he  ap- 
proached this  corner.  Sometimes  he 
stood  with  his  hands  behind  his  back 
and  cautiously  conversed  with  them. 
It  was  understood  on  both  sides  that 
it  was  a  good  thing  to  be  civil. 

In  winter  this  band,  a  trifle  dimin- 
ished in  numbers,  huddled  in  their  old 
coats  and  stamped  little  flat  places  in 
the  snow,  their  faces  turned  always  to- 
ward the  changing  life  in  the  streets. 
In  the  summer  they  became  more  live- 
ly. Sometimes,  then,  they  walked  out 
to  the  curb  to  look  up  and  down  the 


136  GEORGE'S   MOTHER. 

street.  Over  in  a  trampled  vacant  lot, 
surrounded  by  high  tenement-houses, 
there  was  a  sort  of  a  den  among  some 
bowlders.  An  old  truck  was  made  to 
form  a  shelter.  The  small  hoodlums 
of  that  vicinity  all  avoided  the  spot. 
So  many  of  them  had  been  thrashed 
upon  being  caught  near  it.  It  was  the 
summer-time  lounging-place  of  the  band 
from  the  corner. 

They  were  all  too  clever  to  work. 
Some  of  them  had  worked,  but  these 
used  their  experiences  as  stores  from 
which  to  draw  tales.  They  were  like 
veterans  with  their  wars.  One  lad  in 
particular  used  to  recount  how  he 
whipped  his  employer,  the  proprietor 
of  a  large  grain  and  feed  establish- 
ment. He  described  his  victim's  feat- 
ures and  form  and  clothes  with  minute 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  137 

exactness.  He  bragged  of  his  wealth 
and  social  position.  It  had  been  a 
proud  moment  of  the  lad's  life.  He 
was  like  a  savage  who  had  killed  a 
great  chief. 

Their  feeling  for  contemporaneous 
life  was  one  of  contempt.  Their  phil- 
osophy taught  that  in  a  large  part  the 
whole  thing  was  idle  and  a  great  bore. 
With  fine  scorn  they  sneered  at  the 
futility  of  it.  Work  was  done  by  men 
who  had  not  the  courage  to  stand  still 
and  let  the  skies  clap  together  if  they 
willed. 

The  vast  machinery  of  the  popular 
law  indicated  to  them  that  there  were 
people  in  the  world  who  wished  to  re- 
main quiet.  They  awaited  the  moment 
when  they  could  prove  to  them  that  a 
riotous  upheaval,  a  cloud-burst  of  de- 


138  GEORGE'S   MOTHER. 

struction  would  be  a  delicious  thing. 
They  thought  of  their  fingers  buried  in 
the  lives  of  these  people.  They  longed 
dimly  for  a  time  when  they  could  run 
through  decorous  streets  with  crash 
and  roar  of  war,  an  army  of  revenge  for 
pleasures  long  possessed  by  others,  a 
wild  sweeping  compensation  for  their 
years  without  crystal  and  gilt,  women 
and  wine.  This  thought  slumbered  in 
them,  as  the  image  of  Rome  might  have 
lain  small  in  the  hearts  of  the  barba- 
rians. 

Kelcey  respected  these  youths  so 
much  that  he  ordinarily  used  the  other 
side  of  the  street.  He  could  not  go  near 
to  them,  because  if  a  passer-by  mind- 
ed his  own  business  he  was  a  disdain- 
ful prig  and  had  insulted  them ;  if  he 
showed  that  he  was  aware  of  them  they 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  139 

were  likely  to  resent  his  not  minding 
his  own  business  and  prod  him  into  a 
fight  if  the  opportunity  were  good.  Kel- 
cey  longed  for  their  acquaintance  and 
friendship,  for  with  it  came  social  safety 
and  ease ;  they  were  respected  so  uni- 
versally. 

Qnce  in  another  street  Fidsey  Cor- 
coran was  whipped  by  a  short,  heavy 
man.  Fidsey  picked  himself  up,  and 
in  the  fury  of  defeat  hurled  pieces  of 
brick  at  his  opponent.  The  short  man 
dodged  with  skill  and  then  pursued 
Fidsey  for  over  a  block.  Sometimes  he 
got  near  enough  to  punch  him.  Fidsey 
raved  in  maniacal  fury.  The  moment 
the  short  man  would  attempt  to  resume 
his  own  affairs,  Fidsey  would  turn  upon 
him  again,  tears  and  blood  upon  his 
face,  with  the  lashed  rage  of  a  van- 


140  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

quished  animal.  The  short  man  used 
to  turn  about,  swear  madly,  and  make 
little  dashes.  Fidsey  always  ran  and 
then  returned  as  pursuit  ceased.  The 
short  man  apparently  wondered  if  this 
maniac  was  ever  going  to  allow  him  to 
finish  whipping  him.  He  looked  help- 
lessly up  and  down  the  street.  People 
were  there  who  knew  Fidsey,  and  they 
remonstrated  with  him  ;  but  he  contin- 
ued to  confront  the  short  man,  gibber- 
ing like  a  wounded  ape,  using  all  the 
eloquence  of  the  street  in  his  wild 
oaths. 

Finally  the  short  man  was  exasper- 
ated to  black  fury.  He  decided  to  end 
the  fight.  With  low  snarls,  ominous  as 
death,  he  plunged  at  Fidsey. 

Kelcey  happened  there  then.  He 
grasped  the  short  man's  shoulder.  He 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  141 

cried  out  in  the  peculiar  whine  of  the 
man  who  interferes.  "Oh,  hoi'  on! 
Yeh  don't  wanta  hit  'im  any  more ! 
Yeh've  done  enough  to  'im  now !  Leave 
'imbe!" 

The  short  man  wrenched  and  tugged. 
He  turned  his  face  until  his  teeth  were 
almost  at  Kelcey's  cheek :  "  Le'  go 

me!  Le'  go  me,  you "  The  rest 

of  his  sentence  was  screamed  curses. 

Kelcey's  face  grew  livid  from  fear, 
but  he  somehow  managed  to  keep  his 
grip.  Fidsey,  with  but  an  instant's 
pause,  plunged  into  the  new  fray. 

They  beat  the  short  man.  They 
forced  him  against  a  high  board-fence 
where  for  a  few  seconds  their  blows 
sounded  upon  his  head  in  swift  thuds. 
A  moment  later  Fidsey  descried  a  run- 
ning policeman.  He  made  off,  fleet  as 


142  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

a  shadow.  Kelcey  noted  his  going.  He 
ran  after  him. 

Three  or  four  blocks  away  they 
halted.  Fidsey  said:  "  I'd  'a  licked 
dat  big  stuff  in  'bout  a  minute  more," 
and  wiped  the  blood  from  his  eyes. 

At  the  gang's  corner,  they  asked : 
"Who  soaked  yeh,  Fidsey?"  His 
description  was  burning.  Everybody 
laughed.  "  Where  is  'e  now  ?  "  Later 
they  began  to  question  Kelcey.  He 
recited  a  tale  in  which  he  allowed  him- 
self to  appear  prominent  and  redoubt- 
able. They  looked  at  him  then  as  if 
they  thought  he  might  be  quite  a  man. 

Once  when  the  little  old  woman  was 
going  out  to  buy  something  for  her 
son's  supper,  she  discovered  him  stand- 
ing at  the  side-door  of  the  saloon  en- 
gaged intimately  with  Fidsey  and  the 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  143 

others.  She  slunk  away,  for  she  under- 
stood that  it  would  be  a  terrible  thing 
to  confront  him  and  his  pride  there 
with  youths  who  were  superior  to 
mothers. 

When  he  arrived  home  he  threw 
down  his  hat  with  a  weary  sigh,  as  if  he 
had  worked  long  hours,  but  she  at- 
tacked him  before  he  had  time  to  com- 
plete the  falsehood.  He  listened  to  her 
harangue  with  a  curled  lip.  In  defence 
he  merely  made  a  gesture  of  supreme 
exasperation.  She  never  understood 
the  advanced  things  in  life.  He  felt 
the  hopelessness  of  ever  making  her 
comprehend.  His  mother  was  not 
modern. 


XIV. 

THE  little  old  woman  arose  early  and 
bustled  in  the  preparation  of  breakfast. 
At  times  she  looked  anxiously  at  the 
clock.  An  hour  before  her  son  should 
leave  for  work  she  went  to  his  room 
and  called  him  in  the  usual  tone  of 
sharpness,  "  George !  George ! " 

A  sleepy  growl  came  to  her. 

"  Come,  come,  it's  time  t'  git  up,"  she 
continued.  "  Come  now,  git  right  up ! " 

Later  she  went  again  to  the  door. 
"  George,  are  yeh  gittin'  up  ?  " 

"Huh?" 

"  Are  yeh  gittin'  up?" 

"  Yes,  I'll  git  right  up  ! "    He  had  in- 


GEORGE'S   MOTHER.  145 

troduced  a  valor  into  his  voice  which 
she  detected  to  be  false.  She  went  to 
his  bedside  and  took  him  by  the  shoul- 
der. "  George — George — git  up  !  " 

From  the  mist-lands  of  sleep  he 
began  to  protest  incoherently.  "  Oh' 
le'  me  be,  won'  yeh  ?  'M  sleepy ! " 

She  continued  to  shake  him.  "  Well, 
it's  time  t'  git  up.  Come — come — come 
on,  now." 

Her  voice,  shrill  with  annoyance, 
pierced  his  ears  in  a  slender,  piping 
thread  of  sound.  He  turned  over  on 
the  pillow  to  bury  his  head  in  his  arms. 
When  he  expostulated,  his  tones  came 
half -smothered.  "  Oh  le'  me  be,  can't 
yeh  ?  There's  plenty  'a  time !  Jest  fer 
ten  minutes !  'M  sleepy  !  " 

She  was  implacable.     "  No,  yeh  must 

git  up  now  !     Yeh  ain't  got  more'n  time 
10 


146  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

enough  t'  eat  yer  breakfast  an'  git  t' 
work." 

Eventually  he  arose,  sullen  and  grum- 
bling. Later  he  came  to  his  breakfast, 
blinking  his  dry  eyelids,  his  stiffened 
features  set  in  a  mechanical  scowl. 

Each  morning  his  mother  went  to  his 
room,  and  fought  a  battle  to  arouse  him. 
She  was  like  a  soldier.  Despite  his 
pleadings,  his  threats,  she  remained  at 
her  post,  imperturbable  and  unyielding. 
These  affairs  assumed  large  proportions 
in  his  life.  Sometimes  he  grew  beside 
himself  with  a  bland,  un formulated 
wrath.  The  whole  thing  was  a  consum- 
mate imposition.  He  felt  that  he  was 
being  cheated  of  his  sleep.  It  was  an 
injustice  to  compel  him  to  arise  morn- 
ing after  morning  with  bitter  regularity, 
before  the  sleep-gods  had  at  all  loosened 


GEORGE'S    MOTHER.  147 

their  grasp.  He  hated  that  unknown 
force  which  directed  his  life. 

One  morning  he  swore  a  tangled 
mass  of  oaths,  aimed  into  the  air,  as  if 
the  injustice  poised  there.  His  mother 
flinched  at  first ;  then  her  mouth  set  in 
the  little  straight  line.  She  saw  that 
the  momentous  occasion  had  come.  It 
was  the  time  of  the  critical  battle.  She 
turned  upon  him  valorously.  "Stop 
your  swearin',  George  Kelcey.  I 
won't  have  yeh  talk  so  before  me!  I 
won't  have  it !  Stop  this  minute !  Not 
another  word  !  Do  yeh  think  I'll  allow 
yeh  t'  swear  b'fore  me  like  that  ?  Not 
another  word  !  I  won't  have  it !  I  de- 
clare I  won't  have  it  another  minute  !  " 

At  first  her  projected  words  had  slid 
from  his  mind  as  if  striking  against  ice, 
but  at  last  he  heeded  her.  His  face 


148  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

grew  sour  with  passion  and  misery. 
He  spoke  in  tones  dark  with  dislike. 
"Th'  'ell  yeh  won't?  Whatter  yeh 
goin'  t'  do  'bout  it  ? "  Then,  as  if  he 
considered  that  he  had  not  been  suffi- 
ciently impressive,  he  arose  and  slowly 
walked  over  to  her.  Having  arrived  at 
point-blank  range  he  spoke  again. 
"Whatter  yeh  goin'  t'  do  'bout  it?" 
He  regarded  her  then  with  an  unalter- 
ing  scowl,  albeit  his  mien  was  as  dark 
and  cowering  as  that  of  a  condemned 
criminal. 

She  threw  out  her  hands  in  the  gest- 
ure of  an  impotent  one.  He  was  ac- 
knowledged victor.  He  took  his  hat 
and  slowly  left  her. 

For  three  days  they  lived  in  silence. 
He  brooded  upon  his  mother's  agony 
and  felt  a  singular  joy  in  it.  As  oppor- 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  149 

tunity  offered,  lie  did  little  despicable 
things.  He  was  going  to  make  her  ab- 
ject. He  was  now  uncontrolled,  un- 
governed  ;  he  wished  to  be  an  emperor. 
Her  suffering  was  all  a  sort  of  compen- 
sation for  his  own  dire  pains. 

She  went  about  with  a  gray,  im- 
passive face.  It  was  as  if  she  had  sur- 
vived a  massacre  in  which  all  that  she 
loved  had  been  torn  from  her  by  the 
brutality  of  savages. 

One  evening  at  six  he  entered  and 
stood  looking  at  his  mother  as  she 
peeled  potatoes.  She  had  hearkened  to 
his  coming  listlessly,  without  emotion, 
and  at  his  entrance  she  did  not  raise 
her  eyes. 

"Well,  I'm  fired,"  he  said,  sudden- 
ly. 

It  seemed  to  be  the  final  blow.     Her 


150  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

body  gave  a  convulsive  movement  in 
the  chair.  When  she  finally  lifted  her 
eyes,  horror  possessed  her  face.  Her 
under  jaw  had  fallen.  "  Fired  ?  Outa 
work?  Why  — George?"  He  went 
over  to  the  window  and  stood  with  his 
back  to  her.  He  could  feel  her  gray 
stare  upon  him. 

"Yep!     Fired!" 

At  last  she  said,  "  Well — whatter  yeh 
goin't'do?" 

He  tapped  the  pane  with  his  finger- 
nail. He  answered  in  a  tone  made 
hoarse  and  unnatural  by  an  assumption 
of  gay  carelessness,  "  Oh,  nothin' !  " 

She  began,  then,  her  first  weeping. 
"  Oh — George — George — George — 

He  looked  at  her  scowling.  "Ah, 
whatter  yeh  givin'  us  ?  Is  this  all  I 
git  when  I  come  home  f 'm  being  fired  ? 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  151 

Anybody  'ud  think  it  was  my  fault.     I 
couldn't  help  it." 

She  continued  to  sob  in  a  dull, 
shaking  way.  In  the  pose  of  her 
head  there  was  an  expression  of  her 
conviction  that  comprehension  of  her 
pain  was  impossible  to  the  universe. 
He  paused  for  a  moment,  and  then, 
with  his  usual  tactics,  went  out,  slam- 
ming the  door.  A  pale  flood  of  sun- 
light, imperturbable  at  its  vocation, 
streamed  upon  the  little  old  woman, 
bowed  with  pain,  forlorn  in  her  chair. 


XV. 

KELCEY  was  standing  on  the  corner 
next  day  when  three  little  boys  came 
running.  Two  halted  some  distance 
away,  and  the  other  came  forward. 
He  halted  before  Kelcey,  and  spoke 
importantly. 

"  Hey,  your  ol'  woman's  sick." 

"What?" 

"  Your  oF  woman's  sick.''" 

"Git  out!" 

"She  is,  too!" 

"Whotol'yeh?" 

"  Mis'  Callahan.  She  said  f er  me  t' 
run  an'  tell  yeh.  Dey  want  yeh." 

A  swift  dread   struck  Kelcey.     Like 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  153 

flashes  of  light  little  scenes  from  the 
past  shot  through  his  brain.  He  had 
thoughts  of  a  vengeance  from  the  clouds. 
As  he  glanced  about  him  the  familiar 
view  assumed  a  meaning  that  was  omi- 
nous and  dark.  There  was  prophecy  of 
disaster  in  the  street,  the  buildings, 
the  sky,  the  people.  Something  tragic 
and  terrible  in  the  air  was  known  to  his 
nervous,  quivering  nostrils.  He  spoke 
to  the  little  boy  in  a  tone  that  quav- 
ered. "All  right!" 

Behind  him  he  felt  the  sudden  con- 
templative pause  of  his  companions  of 
the  gang.  They  were  watching  him. 
As  he  went  rapidly  up  the  street  he 
knew  that  they  had  come  out  to  the 
middle  of  the  walk  and  were  staring 
after  him.  He  was  glad  that  they 
could  not  see  his  face,  his  trembling 


154  GEORGE "8  MOTHER. 

lips,  his  eyes  wavering  in  fear.  He 
stopped  at  the  door  of  his  home  and 
stared  at  the  panel  as  if  he  saw  written 
thereon  a  word.  A  moment  later  he 
entered.  His  eye  comprehended  the 
room  in  a  frightened  glance. 

His  mother  sat  gazing  out  at  the  op- 
posite walls  and  windows.  She  was 
leaning  her  head  upon  the  back  of  the 
chair.  Her  face  was  overspread  with  a 
singular  pallor,  but  the  glance  of  her 
eyes  was  strong  and  the  set  of  her  lips 
was  tranquil. 

He  felt  an  unspeakable  thrill  of 
thanksgiving  at  seeing  her  seated  there 
calmly.  "  Why,  mother,  they  said  yeh 
was  sick,"  he  cried,  going  toward  her 
impetuously.  "  What's  th'  matter  ?  " 

She  smiled  at  him.  "Oh,  it  ain't 
nothin' !  I  on'y  got  kinda  dizzy,  that's 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  155 

all."  Her  voice  was  sober  aiid  had  the 
ring  of  vitality  in  it. 

He  noted  her  common-place  air. 
There  was  no  alarm  or  pain  in  her 
tones,  but  the  misgivings  of  the  street, 
the  prophetic  twinges  of  his  nerves 
made  him  still  hesitate.  "  Well — are 
you  sure  it  ain't?  They  scared  me 
'bout  t'  death." 

"No,  it  ain't  anything,  o'ny  some 
sorta  dizzy  feelin'.  I  fell  down  b'hind 
th'  stove.  Missis  Callahan,  she  came  an' 
picked  me  up.  I  must  'a  laid  there  fer 
quite  a  while.  Th'  docter  said  he 
guessed  I'd  be  all  right  in  a  couple  'a 
hours.  I  don't  feel  nothin' !  " 

Kelcey  heaved  a  great  sigh  of  relief. 
"  Lord,  I  was  scared."  He  began  to 
beam  joyously,  since  he  was  escaped 
from  his  fright.  "Why,  I  couldn't 


156  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

think  what  had  happened,"  he  told 
her. 

"Well,  it  ain't  nothin',"  she  said. 

He  stood  about  awkwardly,  keeping 
his  eyes  fastened  upon  her  in  a  sort  of 
surprise,  as  if  he  had  expected  to  dis- 
cover that  she  had  vanished.  The  re- 
action from  his  panic  was  a  thrill  of 
delicious  contentment.  He  took  a  chair 
and  sat  down  near  her,  but  presently  he 
jumped  up  to  ask :  "  There  ain't  nothin' 
I  can  get  fer  yeh,  is  ther  ?  "  He  looked 
at  her  eagerly.  In  his  eyes  shone  love 
and  joy.  If  it  were  not  for  the  shame 
of  it  he  would  have  called  her  endearing 
names. 

"  No,  ther  ain't  nothin',"  she  an- 
swered. Presently  she  continued,  in  a 
conversational  way,  "Yeh  ain't  found 
no  work  yit,  have  yeh  ?  " 


GEORGE'S   MOTHER.  157 

The  shadow  of  his  past  fell  upon  him 
then  and  he  became  suddenly  morose. 
At  last  he  spoke  in  a  sentence  that  was 
a  vow,  a  declaration  of  change.  "No, 
I  ain't,  but  I'm  goin'  t'  hunt  fer  it  hard, 
you  bet." 

She  understood  from  his  tone  that 
he  was  making  peace  with  her.  She 
smiled  at  him  gladly.  "Yer  a  good 
boy,  George ! "  A  radiance  from  the 
stars  lit  her  face. 

Presently  she  asked,  "  D'  yeh  think 
yer  old  boss  would  take  yeh  on  ag'in  if 
I  went  t' see  him?" 

"No,"  said  Kelcey,  at  once.  "It 
wouldn't  do  no  good !  They  got  all  th' 
men  they  want.  There  ain't  no  room 
there.  It  wouldn't  do  no  good."  He 
ceased  to  beam  for  a  moment  as  he 
thought  of  certain  disclosures.  "I'm 


158  GEORGE'S   MOTHER. 

goin'  t'  try  to  git  work  everywheres. 
I'm  goin'  t'  make  a  wild  break  t'  git  a 
job,  an'  if  there's  one  anywheres  I'll 
get  it." 

She  smiled  at  him  again.  "That's 
right,  George ! " 

When  it  came  supper -time  he 
dragged  her  in  her  chair  over  to  the 
table  and  then  scurried  to  and  fro  to 
prepare  a  meal  for  her.  She  laughed 
gleefully  at  him.  He  was  awkward  and 
densely  ignorant.  He  exaggerated  his 
helplessness  sometimes  until  she  was 
obliged  to  lean  back  in  her  chair  to 
laugh.  Afterward  they  sat  by  the  win- 
dow. Her  hand  rested  upon  his  hair. 


XVI. 

WHEN  Kelcey  went  to  borrow  money 
from  old  Bleecker,  Jones  and  the  others, 
he  discovered  that  he  was  below  them 
in  social  position.  Old  Bleecker  said 
gloomily  that  he  did  not  see  how  he 
could  loan  money  at  that  time.  When 
Jones  asked  him  to  have  a  drink,  his 
tone  was  careless.  O'Connor  recited 
at  length  some  bewildering  financial 
troubles  of  his  own.  In  them  all  he 
saw  that  something  had  been  reversed. 
They  remained  silent  upon  many  oc- 
casions, when  they  might  have  grunted 
in  sympathy  for  him. 

As  he  passed  along  the  street  near 


160  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

his  home  he  perceived  Fidsey  Corcoran 
and  another  of  the  gang.  They  made 
eloquent  signs.  "  Are  yeh  wid  us  ?  " 

He  stopped  and  looked  at  them. 
"  What's  wrong  with  yeh?  " 

"  Are  yeh  wid  us  er  not,"  demanded 
Fidsey.  "New  barkeep'!  Big  can! 
We  got  it  over  in  d'  lot.  Big  can,  I  tell 
yeh."  He  drew  a  picture  in  the  air,  so 
to  speak,  with  his  enthusiastic  ringers. 

Kelcey  turned  dejectedly  homeward. 
"  Oh,  I  guess  not,  this  roun'." 

"What's  d'  matter  wi'che?"  said 
Fidsey.  "Yer  gittin'  t'  be  a  reg'lar 
willie !  Come  ahn,  I  tell  yeh  !  Youse 
gits  one  smoke  at  d'  can  b'cause  yeh 
b'longs  t'  d'  gang,  an'  yeh  don't  wanta 
give  it  up  widout  er  scrap !  See  ?  Some 
udder  John  11  git  yer  smoke.  Come 
ahn ! " 


GEORGE'S   MOTHER.  161 

When  they  arrived  at  the  place  among 
the  bowlders  in  the  vacant  lot,  one  of 
the  band  had  a  huge  and  battered  tin- 
pail  tilted  afar  up.  His  throat  worked 
convulsively.  He  was  watched  keenly 
and  anxiously  by  five  or  six  others. 
Their  eyes  followed  carefully  each  frac- 
tion of  distance  that  the  pail  was  lifted. 
They  were  very  silent. 

Fidsey  burst  out  violently  as  he  per- 
ceived what  was  in  progress.  "Heh, 
Tim,  yeh  big  sojer,  let  go  d'  can  !  What 
'a  yeh  tink !  Wese  er  in  dis !  Le'  go 
dat ! " 

He  who  was  drinking  made  several 
angry  protesting  contortions  of  his 
throat.  Then  he  put  down  the  pail  and 
swore.  "  Who's  a  big  sojer  ?  I  ain't 
gittin'  more'n  me  own  smoke !  Yer 

too  bloomin'  swift !     Ye'd  tink  yeh  was 
11 


162  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

d'  on'y  mug  w«hat  owned  dis  can  !  Close 
yer  face  while  I  gits  me  smoke  !  " 

He  took  breath  for  a  moment  and 
then  returned  the  pail  to  its  tilted 
position.  Eidsey  went  to  him  and 
worried  and  clamored.  He  interfered 
so  seriously  with  the  action  of  drink- 
ing that  the  other  was  obliged  to  re- 
lease the  pail  again  for  fear  of  chok- 
ing. 

Fidsey  grabbed  it  and  glanced  swiftly 
at  the  contents.  "  Dere  !  Dat's  what 
I  was  hollerin'  at !  Lookut  d'  beer ! 
Not  'nough  t'  wet  yer  t'roat !  Yehs 
can't  have  notin'  on  d'  level  wid  youse 
damn'  tanks !  Youse  was  a  reg'lar 
resevoiy,  Tim  Connigan  !  Look  what 
yeh  lef  us!  Ah,  say,  youse  was  a 
dandy!  What  'a  yeh  tink  we  ah? 
Willies  ?  Don'  we  want  no  smoke  ? 


GEORGE'S   MOTHER.  163 

Say,  lookut  dat  can  !  It's  drier'n  hell ! 
What  'a  yeh  tink  ?  " 

Tim  glanced  in  at  the  beer.  Then  he 
said:  "Well,  d'  mug  what  come  b'fore 
me,  he  on'y  lef  me  dat  much.  Blue 
Billee,  he  done  d'  swallerin'!  I  on'y 
hadatas'e!" 

Blue  Billie,  from  his  seat  near,  called 
out  in  wrathful  protest :  "  Yeh  lie, 
Tim.  I  never  had  more'n  a  mouf-f ul !  " 
An  inspiration  evidently  came  to  him 
then,  for  his  countenance  suddenly 
brightened,  and,  arising,  he  went  toward 
the  pail.  "I  ain't  had  me  reg'lar 
smoke  yit!  Guess  I  come  in  aheader 
Fidsey,  don' I?" 

Fidsey,  with  a  sardonic  smile,  swung 
the  pail  behind  him.  "  I  guess  nit ! 
Not  dis  minuet !  Youse  hadger  smoke. 
If  yeh  ain't,  yeh  don't  git  none.  See  ?  " 


164:  GEORGE'S   MOTHER. 

Blue  Billie  confronted  Fidsey  deter- 
minedly. «D' 'ell  I  don't!" 

"Nit,"  said  Fidsey. 

Billee  sat  down  again. 

Fidsey  drank  his  portion.  Then  he 
manoeuvred  skilfully  before  the  crowd 
until  Kelcey  and  the  other  youth  took 
their  shares.  "Youse  er  a  mob  'a 
tanks,"  he  told  the  gang.  "Nobody  'ud 
git  not'in'  if  dey  wasn't  on  t'  yehs  ! " 

Blue  Billie's  soul  had  been  smoul- 
dering in  hate  against  Fidsey.  "Ah, 
shut  up !  Youse  ain't  gota  take  care 
'a  dose  two  mugs,  dough.  Youse  had- 
ger  smoke,  ain't  yeh?  Den  yer  tr'u. 
G'  home ! " 

"  Well,  I  hate  t'  see  er  bloke  use  'im- 
self  fer  a  tank,"  said  Fidsey.  "But 
youse  don't  wanta  go  jolly  in'  'round 
'bout  d'  can,  Blue,  er  youse'll  git  done." 


GEORGE' 8   MOTHER.  165 

"Who'll  do  me?"  demanded  Blue 
Billie,  casting  his  eye  about  him. 

"  Kel'  will,"  said  Fidsey,  bravely. 

"D"ellhewill?" 

"Dat's  what  he  will!" 

Blue  Billie  made  the  gesture  of  a 
warrior.  "  He  never  saw  d'  day  'a  his 
life  dat  he  could  do  me  little  finger.  If 
'e  says  much  t'  me,  I'll  push  'is  face  all 
over  d'  lot." 

Fidsey  called  to  Kelcey.  "  Say,  Kel, 
hear  what  dis  mug  is  chewin'  ?  " 

Kelcey  was  apparently  deep  in  other 
matters.  His  back  was  half -turned. 

Blue  Billie  spoke  to  Fidsey  in  a  bat- 
tleful  voice.  "  Did  'e  ever  say  'e  could 
dome?" 

Fidsey  said :  "  Soitenly  'e  did.  Youse 
is  dead  easy,  'e  says.  He  says  he  kin 
punch  holes  in  you,  Blue  ! " 


166  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

"  When  did  'e  say  it?" 

"  Oh — any  time.  Youse  is  a  cinch, 
Kel'  says." 

Blue  Billie  walked  over  to  Kelcey. 
The  others  of  the  band  followed  him 
exchanging  joyful  glances. 

"  Did  youse  say  yeh  could  do  me  ?  " 

Kelcey  slowly  turned,  but  he  kept  his 
eyes  upon  the  ground.  He  heard  Fid- 
sey  darting  among  the  others  telling  of 
his  prowess,  preparing  them  for  the 
downfall  of  Blue  Billie.  He  stood  heav- 
ily on  one  foot  and  moved  his  hands 
nervously.  Finally  he  said,  in  a  low 
growl,  "  Well,  what  if  I  did  ?  " 

The  sentence  sent  a  happy  thrill 
through  the  band.  It  was  the  for- 
midable question.  Blue  Billie  braced 
himself.  Upon  him  came  the  respon- 
sibility of  the  next  step.  The  gang 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  167 

fell  back  a  little  upon  all  sides.  They 
looked  expectantly  at  Blue  Billie ! 

He  walked  forward  with  a  deliberate 
step  until  his  face  was  close  to  Kel- 
cey. 

"  Well,  if  you  did,"  he  said,  with  a 
snarl  between  his  teeth,  "  I'm  goin'  t' 
t'ump  d'  life  outa  yeh  right  heh  ! " 

A  little  boy,  wild  of  eye  and  puffing, 
came  down  the  slope  as  from  an  explo- 
sion. He  burst  out  in  a  rapid  treble, 
"  Is  dat  Kelcey  feller  here  ?  Say,  yeh 
ol'  woman's  sick  again.  Dey  want 
yeh!  Yeh's  better  run!  She's  awful 
sick!" 

The  gang  turned  with  loud  growls. 
"  Ah,  git  outa  here !  "  Fidsey  threw  a 
stone  at  the  little  boy  and  chased  him 
a  short  distance,  but  he  continued  to 
clamor,  "Youse  better  come,  Kelcey 


168  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

feller!  She's  awful  sick!  She  was 
hollerin'!  Dey  been  lookin'  fer  yeh 
over'n  hour ! "  In  his  eagerness  he  re- 
turned part  way,  regardless  of  Fidsey ! 

Kelsey  had  moved  away  from  Blue 
Billie !  He  said :  "  I  guess  I'd  better 
go!"  They  howled  at  him.  "Well," 
he  continued,  "  I  can't — I  don't  wanta — 
I  don't  wanta  leave  me  mother  be — 
she " 

His  words  were  drowned  in  the 
chorus  of  their  derision.  "  Well,  looka- 
here" — he  would  begin  and  at  each  time 
their  cries  and  screams  ascended.  They 
dragged  at  Blue  Billie.  "Go  fer  'im, 
Blue!  Slug'im!  Go  aim!" 

Kelcey  went  slowly  away  while  they 
were  urging  Blue  Billie  to  do  a  decisive 
thing.  Billie  stood  fuming  and  blus- 
tering and  explaining  himself.  When 


GEORGE'S   MOTHER.  169 

Kelcey  had  achieved  a  considerable  dis- 
tance from  him,  he  stepped  forward  a 
few  paces  and  hurled  a  terrible  oath. 
Kelcey  looked  back  darkly. 


XVII. 

WHEN  he  entered  the  chamber  of 
death,  he  was  brooding  over  the  recent 
encounter  and  devising  extravagant 
revenges  upon  Blue  Billie  and  the 
others. 

The  little  old  woman  was  stretched 
upon  her  bed.  Her  face  and  hands 
were  of  the  hue  of  the  blankets.  Her 
hair,  seemingly  of  a  new  and  wondrous 
grayness,  hung  over  her  temples  in 
whips  and  tangles.  She  was  sicken- 
ingly  motionless,  save  for  her  eyes, 
which  rolled  and  swayed  in  maniacal 
glances. 

A  young  doctor  had  just  been  admin- 


GEORGE'S   MOTHER.  171 

istering  medicine.  "There,"  he  said, 
with  a  great  satisfaction,  "I  guess 
that'll  do  her  good ! "  As  he  went 
briskly  toward  the  door  he  met  Kelcey. 
"Oh," he  said.  "Son?" 

Kelcey  had  that  in  his  throat  which 
was  like  fur.  When  he  forced  his 
voice,  the  words  came  first  low  and 
then  high  as  if  they  had  broken  through 
something.  "  Will  she — will  she 

The  doctor  glanced  back  at  the  bed. 
She  was  watching  them  as  she  would 
have  watched  ghouls,  and  muttering. 
"  Can't  tell,"  he  said.  "  She's  wonder- 
ful woman!  Got  more  vitality  than 
you  and  I  together !  Can't  tell !  May 
—may  not!  Good-day!  Back  in  two 
hours." 

In  the  kitchen  Mrs.  Callahan  was 
feverishly  dusting  the  furniture,  polish- 


172  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

ing  this  and  that.  She  arranged  every- 
thing in  decorous  rows.  She  was  pre- 
paring for  the  coming  of  death.  She 
looked  at  the  floor  as  if  she  longed  to 
scrub  it. 

The  doctor  paused  to  speak  in  an 
undertone  to  her,  glancing  at  the  bed. 
When  he  departed  she  labored  with  a 
renewed  speed. 

Kelcey  approached  his  mother. 
From  a  little  distance  he  called  to  her. 
"  Mother — mother — "  He  proceeded 
with  caution  lest  this  mystic  being 
upon  the  bed  should  clutch  at  him. 

"  Mother — mother — don't  yeh  know 
me?"  He  put  forth  apprehensive, 
shaking  fingers  and  touched  her  hand. 

There  were  two  brilliant  steel-colored 
points  upon  her  eyeballs.  She  was 
staring  off  at  something  sinister. 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  173 

Suddenly  she  turned  to  her  son  in 
a  wild  babbling  appeal.  "Help  me! 
Help  me!  Oh,  help  me!  I  see  them 
coming." 

Kelcey  called  to  her  as  to  a  distant 
place.  "Mother!  Mother!"  She 
looked  at  him,  and  then  there  began 
within  her  a  struggle  to  reach  him  with 
her  mind.  She  fought  with  some  im- 
placable power  whose  fingers  were  in 
her  brain.  She  called  to  Kelcey  in 
stammering,  incoherent  cries  for  help. 

Then  she  again  looked  away.  "Ah, 
there  they  come !  There  they  come ! 
Ah,  look — look — loo — "  She  arose  to 
a  sitting  posture  without  the  use  of 
her  arms. 

Kelcey  felt  himself  being  choked. 
When  her  voice  pealed  forth  in  a 
scream  he  saw  crimson  curtains  mov- 


174  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

ing  before  his  eyes.  "Mother — oh, 
mother — there's  nothin' — there's  noth- 
in " 

She  was  at  a  kitchen-door  with  a 
dish-cloth  in  her  hand.  Within  there 
had  just  been  a  clatter  of  crockery. 
Down  through  the  trees  of  the  orchard 
she  could  see  a  man  in  a  field  plough- 
ing. "Bill — o-o-oh,  Bill — have  yeh 
seen  Georgie  ?  Is  he  out  there  with  you  ? 
Georgie !  Georgie !  Come  right  here 
this  minnet !  Bight — this — minnet ! " 

She  began  to  talk  to  some  people  in 
the  room.  "  I  want  t'  know  what  yeh 
want  here !  I  want  yeh  t'  git  out !  I 
don't  want  yeh  here  !  I  don't  feel  good 
t'-day,  an'  I  don't  want  yeh  here !  I 
don't  feel  good  t'-day !  I  want  yeh  t' 
git  out!"  Her  voice  became  peevish. 
"  Go  away !  Go  away !  Go  away !  " 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  175 

Kelcey  lay  in  a  chair.  His  nerveless 
arms  allowed  his  fingers  to  sweep  the 
floor.  He  became  so  that  he  could  not 
hear  the  chatter  from  the  bed,  but  he 
was  always  conscious  of  the  ticking  of 
the  little  clock  out  on  the  kitchen  shelf. 

When  he  aroused,  the  pale-faced  but 
plump  young  clergyman  was  before 
him. 

"  My  poor  lad  " — began  this  latter. 

The  little  old  woman  lay  still  with 
her  eyes  closed.  On  the  table  at  the 
head  of  the  bed  was  a  glass  containing 
a  water -like  medicine.  The  reflected 
lights  made  a  silver  star  on  its  side. 
The  two  men  sat  side  by  side,  waiting. 
Out  in  the  kitchen  Mrs.  Callahan  had 
taken  a  chair  by  the  stove  and  was 
waiting. 

Kelcey  began  to  stare  at  the  wall- 


176  GEORGE'S  MOTHER. 

paper.  The  pattern  was  clusters  of 
brown  roses.  He  felt  them  like  hid- 
eous crabs  crawling  upon  his  brain. 

Through  the  door- way  he  saw  the  oil- 
cloth covering  of  the  table  catching  a 
glimmer  from  the  warm  afternoon  sun. 
The  window  disclosed  a  fair,  soft  sky, 
like  blue  enamel,  and  a  fringe  of  chim- 
neys and  roofs,  resplendent  here  and 
there.  An  endless  roar,  the  eternal 
trample  of  the  marching  city,  came 
mingled  with  vague  cries.  At  intervals 
the  woman  out  by  the  stove  moved  rest- 
lessly and  coughed. 

Over  the  transom  from  the  hall-way 
came  two  voices. 

"  Johnnie!" 

"Wot!" 

"  You  'come  right  here  t'  me !  I 
want  yehs  t'  go  t'  d'  store  fer  me ! " 


GEORGE'S  MOTHER.  177 

"Ah,  ma,  send  Sally!" 

"  No,  I  will  not !  You  come  right 
here!" 

"  All  right,  in  a  minnet ! " 

"  Johnnie ! " 

"  In  a  minnet,  I  tell  yeh !  " 

"Johnnie — "  There  was  the  sound 
of  a  heavy  tread,  and  later  a  boy 
squealed.  Suddenly  the  clergyman 
started  to  his  feet.  He  rushed  forward 
and  peered.  The  little  old  woman  was 
dead. 


THE  END. 


Other  Works  of 

FICTION 

RECENTLY  PUBLISHED  BY 

EDWARD  ARNOLD. 


A  MASK  AND  A  MARTYR. 

By  E.  LIVINGSTON  PRESCOTT,  author  of 
"  The  Apotheosis  of  Mr.  Tyrawley." 
i2mo,  $1.50. 

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original  and  unconventional,  while  the  manner 
of  telling  it  shows  much  restrained  power." 

— London  Daily  Telegraph. 

"  Here  we  have  a  story  which  rivets  the  atten- 
tion from  beginning  to  end.  It  is  a  powerful 
and  tragic  book." — Liverpool  Mercury. 

"The  author  gives  us  a  fine  story  in  the  best 
sense,  which  will  command  a  wide  reading  and 
provoke  uniform  delight.  The  page,  type,  and 
general  creation  of  the  book  in  the  mechanical 
sense  leaves  nothing  to  be  desired." 

— Boston  Courier. 


"  This  is  a  novel  by  a  comparatively  new 
writer,  which  merits  a  high  meed  of  praise  from 
critics.  The  character  of  the  man,  his  struggles, 
his  patience,  his  suffering,  are  portrayed  with 
a  degree  of  sympathy  and  understanding  that 
make  the  book  one  of  the  most  pathetic  that 
was  ever  written," 


HADJIRA. 

A  Turkish  Story.   By  "  ADALET."    Crown 
8vo,  $1.50. 

11  This  handsomely  printed  volume  is  reported 
as  the  literary  work  of  a  young  Turkish  lady, 
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plume.  The  manuscript  comes  to  the  Ameri- 
can publisher  in  English  in  her  own  handwrit- 
ing. It  is  marked  for  its  literary  elegance. 
Besides  being  a  very  charming  love  story,  it  re- 
veals life  in  the  Turkish  harem,  and  the  man- 
ners and  customs  of  the  Turkish  people,  and  in 
this  sense  it  is  profoundly  interesting  and  in- 
structive."— Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 


"In  traversing  the  domain  of  the  love  story,  it 
is  occasionally  refreshing  to  draw  away  from  the 
well-worn  ruts,  and  pluck  strange  waysides 
along  new  paths.  A  young  Turkish  lady  has 
written  a  story  of  love  in  her  own  country  which 
gives  a  satisfactory  insight  into  the  affairs  of  the 
heart  as  understood  by  lovers  in  the  dominion 
of  the  Sultan.  The  tale  is  one  of  interest  as 
coming  from  a  land  where  a  young  girl  has  little 
or  nothing  to  do  with  the  choice  of  her  husband 
and  her  future  ;  and  as  bringing  to  our  notice 
the  every-day  relationships,  habits  and  super- 
stitions of  a  people  of  whom  we  as  yet  know  so 
little." — Boston  Courier. 


MISTHER  O'RYAN. 

An  Incident  in  the  History  of  a  Nation. 
By  EDWARD  McNuLTY.  12010,  elegant- 
ly bound,  $1.00. 


"There  are  things  to  make  one  laugh  and 
make  one  cry.  Of  course  a  love  story  runs  its 
glittering  thread  through  the  mesh  so  skillfully 
woven,  and  is  told  with  remarkable  felicity  of 
description,  portraiture,  and  narrative.  The 
culminating  stage  has  in  it  the  elements  of  trag- 
edy, for  which  an  abundance  of  pathos  prepares 
the  emotions  of  the  reader.  It  is  the  throbbing 
life  on  the  pages  of  the  book  that  forms  the 
magnet  for  one's  interests  and  sympathies. 
That,  in  fact,  is  the  book  itself." 

— Boston  Courier. 


*'  This  is  one  of  the  best  Irish  tales  we  have 
read.  .  .  .  There  are  flashes  of  wit  and 
crossings  of  repartee  that  would  do  no  discredit 
to  Lover  and  Lever  at  their  best." 

— Brooklyn  Citizen. 


"  There  is  little  in  fiction  more  tender  and 
touching  than  the  episode  of  poor  old  Paddy 
and  his  blind  wife." — New  York  World. 


PAPIER  MACHE. 

A  Novel.     By  CHARLES  ALLEN.      i2mo, 
cloth,  $1.00. 


"  The  romance  is  eccentric  and  clever,  and  is 
written  with  a  certain  abruptness  which  is  more 
or  less  taking." — New  York  Times. 


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Edward  Arnold  (New  York)  who  publishes  the 
book.  It  is  one  of  the  Pioneer  Series  and  a 
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A  Novel.       By  Mrs.  OSCAR  BERRINGER. 
i2mo,  cloth,  $1.00. 


"  Mrs.  Derringer  is  better  known  on  the  stage 
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There  is  much  meat  for  controversy  in  it  and 
the  cleverness  with  which  she  has  put  her  ques- 
tion will  warrant  a  fair  hearing. 

"  In  spite  of  the  plot  the  tone  of  the  story  is 
moral.  Vice  is  never  planted  before  one  in  gay 
colors.  When  it  stalks  into  a  chapter  it  is 
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"'The  New  Virtue'  is  a  very  clever  story 
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HER   OWN    DEVICES. 

A  Novel.   By  C.  G.  COMPTON.    121110,  cloth, 
gilt  top,  $1.00. 


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Mr.  Compton  has  known  how  to  treat  a  really 
difficult  subject  without  the  least  approach  to 
coarseness.  If  he  shows  up  the  theater,  the 
stand-point  taken  by  the  author  belongs  to  the 
higher  plane  of  the  stage,  and  there  is  no  fus- 
tian, spangle,  rouge  or  ruddle  in  the  make-up. 
What  Mr.  Compton  may  do  in  the  future  we  do 
not  know,  only  this,  that  'Her  Own  Devices' 
shows  talent  which  is  conspicuous." 

•—New  York  Times. 


"A  choice  story,  and  challenges  the  wide  at- 
tention of  readers  of  fiction." — Boston  Courier. 


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and  racy,  and  entertaining  to  the  end." 

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THE  DEMAGOGUE  AND  LADY 
PHAYRE. 

By  WILLIAM  J.  LOCKE.   i2mo,  cloth,  $1.00. 


11  It  is  not  our  custom  to  praise  in  superlatives, 
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lect to  have  come  across  so  capable  a  book  of 
its  kind  since  the  sensation  made  by  '  The  Green 
Carnation '  died  away,  and  the  present  story  is 
well  worthy  of  a  place  in  the  same  series.  The 
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step  or  two  short  of  brilliancy,  and  there  is  a 
certainty  in  the  whole  treatment  that  gives 
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over, and  it  is  a  point  worth  noting  in  the  soci- 
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even  by  the  most  blast  of  novel  readers." 

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WORTH  WHILE. 

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All 


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